


From Mama C's Guide to Intergalactic Etiquette, Chapter One: Don't Look a Gift Newt in the Mouth

by SnarkyLlama



Series: Newt 'Verse [1]
Category: NSYNC
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Canon Gay Character, M/M, Make the Yuletide Gay, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Rape Aftermath, alien mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-27
Updated: 2011-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnarkyLlama/pseuds/SnarkyLlama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JC believes that he was abducted by aliens and impregnated.  He's pretty excited about it.</p><p>Lance thinks JC is crazy, but he also thinks he's ready for a more serious relationship with JC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coming in on a rocket ship, the middle of the night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nopseud](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nopseud).



> Despite the misleading title of this fic, it was written as a stand-alone.

His eyes were closed, but it was bright beyond the boundaries of his eyelids. If he opened his eyes, he would drown. Someone had drained the ocean and filled it back up again with liquid trance music. The sounds slid against his skin, gently persistent. _Let us in, let us in._ He buzzed from it.

And threaded through it all was another sound, something deep that rumbled straight through him, more sensation than song, and he knew he was safe.

*

JC blinked and an ocean of light rushed away on the tide of waking. What had that been? What was that light?

He blinked again and rubbed his eyes. He was in bed, in a cool, dimly lit room, and he didn't need light to know that it wasn't his bedroom. Where was he? How much had he smoked last night? And... had he been drinking something blue? Why did he think he'd been drinking Curacao? He didn't like Curacao.

He needed to get out of here; he could figure everything else out later. He shoved his arms back, ready to propel himself up and out of the bed, and that's when he felt it.

It was back!

There was an almost electrical pulse deep down inside of him, a strange thrum that hovered somewhere between post-orgasmic languor and the roaring anticipation of the crowd just seconds before they stepped onto the stage. He settled back on the mattress, pressed his hand low on his belly, and pictured himself reaching in to stroke whichever little bundle of nerves the feeling was emanating from. He wanted to capture it, so he could feel it whenever he wanted. In the past few months, he'd felt it twice, but it had only lasted for a couple of hours before fading away. It was soothing and arousing at the same time, and he'd really like to be able to keep it.

He closed his eyes and opened his mind... and reached for it. _Come on, come to me, come to--_

The mattress dipped, and Lance was asking, "Have you been here the whole time?" as he crawled into bed beside him.

"Hmm?"

It was good, suddenly realizing that he was in Lance's room, but he was also kind of busy. You couldn't follow a conversation while you were in the middle of a visualization exercise.

"I thought you left without saying goodbye. I was going to be really mad about it tomor-- No, wait. It's tomorrow now, isn't it? Well. I was going to be mad, but now I've got a better idea."

Lance rolled close to him, and oh... Nice. Lance was naked. JC leaned into the press of his smooth, warm skin. It was so lovely and, god, so--

Lance stroked JC's hip and tugged him even closer.

Oh yes. Yes, perfect, thank you. Lance was naked and hard.

"You're humming," Lance said.

Silly Lance, of course he was humming. His whole body was humming from deep inside. He rolled his hips against Lance so that he could feel it, too.

Lance made an appreciative noise and moved with him for a moment before pulling away.

"I'm not going to have sex with you while you're busy thinking about masturbation."

That made JC open his eyes.

"What?"

"I know the 'reaching for the places that no one could ever go' song when I hear it."

"Oh... I didn't..." He hadn't realized that he was _humming_ humming, like out loud. "I... uh..."

He didn't know what to say. It was so distracting, the buzzing inside of him plus all of Lance's warm, golden skin. Lance felt so fucking good; it wasn't fair. He'd already been irresistible when they'd first hooked up, and now he was like a thousand times finer, so sculpted and hot and--

Oh, wait. Wasn't it--?

"Hey," he said and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Was it a good birthday?"

"Mmmhmm." Lance purred and returned the kiss with interest. "And it's about to get better."

Lance's jaw was all stubble after the night of partying, and JC tugged at his hair, trying to get him where he wanted him. He loved the sandpaper scrape at his lips, the burn of it, and the soothing sweep of Lance's tongue afterward. It combined with the strange thrum in his body, and together, they were too much. JC rolled onto his back and pulled Lance on top of him.

Lance chuckled.

"Guess I don't have to ask what you--"

JC bucked under him enough to get his legs free. "Birthday boy," he said. "Hey, birthday boy, bend me in half and fuck me."

Oh yeah. Southern boys were always so gracious about accepting gifts.

*

JC didn't drag himself out of bed until the afternoon. He was still humming a bit inside, but it wasn't as insistent as it had been and he wasn't completely sure that it was the same feeling as before. Lots of good sex always left him happy and quietly buzzing inside, too.

Finding his clothes took a while. They were folded neatly on top of one of the dressers. Lance must have folded them; he couldn't imagine that he'd been that careful with his clothing, not when he'd been wasted enough to forget how he'd ended up in Lance's room in the first place. He stepped into his pants and helped himself to one of Lance's T-shirts while he wondered about that. Shouldn't he have the mother of all hangovers about now? That was the usual result of partying so hard that he forgot the party.

Ah, whatever. It wasn't like he was going to complain about somehow missing out on a killer hangover.

He found Lance in the kitchen. He was staring at a carton of Egg Beaters.

"Hey," Lance said without looking up. "There's coffee."

JC wanted coffee, but he couldn't look away from Lance right then. He looked so... He looked... With his hair un-styled and his glasses on, with the serious little frown between his eyebrows, with his chest bared and gorgeous and a heathery green pair of plaid pajama pants hanging low on his hips, he looked like somebody's boyfriend--and not just any boyfriend, he looked like somebody's _dream_ boyfriend, all responsible and unbearably cute and geeky and mad-hot sexy all at once.

It was impossible that Lance wasn't with someone right now, that he hadn't been planning to end up in bed with someone else last night.

"I give up," Lance said and startled JC by tossing the carton into the sink. "You're supposed to use it within three days, but I can't remember when I opened it. You want some?"

"Um..." Was he offering him bad eggs? "No?"

"I've got more." Lance pulled another little carton out of the refrigerator and waggled it at JC. "Scrambled eggs, complete with a food-poisoning-free guarantee. You sure you don't want any?"

"Oh, um. Yeah, I'd like some. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Lance smiled before turning to the stove. It was a nice smile, simple and straightforward, all "Life is good" and "I got laid" and "It's good to see you." It made JC turn away as well.

He fumbled with the cupboard door and grabbed a mug. For the first time, this thing with Lance--this thing where they were the same as always, except for how they sometimes got naked together and fucked for hours--was awkward. He wanted to kiss Lance. He wanted to put his hand on Lance's hip and hook his thumb under the waistband of his pajamas. He wanted Lance to kiss him until their breakfast was burning on the stove and the smoke detector was blaring, and then they'd laugh and turn off the flame and kiss some more. But their thing wasn't like that. They didn't do that.

They were simmering glances in the night. They were drinks and dancing in dark rooms followed by sex up against the wall. And in the light of day, they were just plain JC and Lance.

He almost reached for Lance anyway. He set the coffee mug down, and he turned and admired the line of Lance's back. He looked at the bull tattoo and thought, "I'll start by kissing him there," and then he took a deep breath and let the moment pass.

They had a good thing going now, a really good thing, and JC should think twice before risking it. It would be really shitty if he tried for something more with him and then had to take it back later. And Lance wouldn't respond well to being told "Oops, I guess I didn't really want you like that after all." Not that anyone ever responded well to that, but JC would miss Lance a lot more than those other people.

So instead, he sidled up next to him and gently bumped him out of the way with his hip so he could get into the bread drawer and pull out a loaf. He tugged the cover off the toaster, and really...

"What is this? A toaster cozy? Does your toaster get cold at night?"

Lance shouldered his way back into his spot in front of the stove. "You've seen it before."

"I know, but I still... I mean, it's even got a little ruffle--" JC flicked at it. "--just like your curtains."

"So? I like it when things are coordinated. It's tasteful."

They debated the merits of having a home that looked like a spread from _Country Living_ until everything was ready and they brought their plates over to the breakfast nook. JC ate a forkful of eggs and then reached out lazily to run a finger along the ruffled edge of the nearest curtain.

"Shut up," Lance said.

JC grinned.

He was trying to decide whether he wanted another piece of toast or a slice of leftover birthday cake when Lance asked, "Where did you disappear to?"

"I'm right here, I'm just thinking about cake."

"No, I mean last night. Where'd you disappear? I seriously thought you'd left."

"I don't really... It's a big place, there were a lot of people."

"There weren't that many people."

"I don't... Um. You want some more coffee?"

Lance peered into his cup and nodded. JC fetched the pot and refilled their coffees, then he got out a fresh plate and sliced a generous hunk from the cake.

"It's not a big deal," Lance said. "But Joey called and I was going to pass the phone to you after, except I couldn't find you and no one knew where you were."

JC sat back down, and Lance raised his brows at the size of the piece of cake. JC set the plate equidistant between them.

"Should I call him?"

Lance stabbed a corner of the cake with his fork.

"Only if you want to. He just wanted to say hi and--" Lance made finger quotes with his free hand. "--'shoot the shit' a little."

"I'm sorry I missed him. I uh... don't remember where I was."

"'C, that's... That's not good."

"No, it's..." JC shrugged. It was more embarrassing than anything else. He'd stopped partying like that a while ago. It wasn't as much fun when you didn't have full-time bodyguards who would keep you from doing anything too disastrously stupid. "It was just a lot of drinks. And Curacao? That never agrees with me."

"Curacao? There wasn't any--"

"I definitely remember something blue. A lot of blue."

Liquid blue light... What would...?

"We didn't have any blue drinks."

"Maybe somebody brought some. Maybe Eric--"

"Eric?"

Oh shit. He hadn't wanted Lance to find out about that, not after the last time.

"How hard is it to tell Eric to stop showing up at my parties? I don't like him and--"

"I had a talk with him."

"A talk."

"I explained. There's a difference between friends and friends of friends, and you have every right--"

"He's not a friend of a friend, he's your manager. He works for you. You don't have to explain anything. You just tell him to stop crashing my parties."

"Lance--"

"He sucked at handling your gay rumors--"

"That wasn't--"

"And I'm still not convinced that it wasn't deliberate."

"He has no reason to sabotage me."

"I can think of several."

"He doesn't--"

"I don't want him around my friends. Most of them are out, but not all of them, and I just don't..." Lance stopped and rubbed at his forehead. "I just don't like him."

"I'm sorry. I'll talk to him again."

"I wish I could get you to dump his ass."

"Yeah, well. Don't make it sound like I'm dating him."

"If he's going to keep coming around like a jealous boyfriend..."

"Anyway," JC said, because that was one image he didn't need to dwell on. "He stopped by and I tried to keep him out of your way. We went out back, smoked some shit--"

"And why does he keep doing that? I'm a good host. I wouldn't-- He doesn't have to act like he's the only source of weed in LA."

"I don't know. He's got some good stuff and he's proud of it, I guess. Anyway. We smoked some shit, he said his thing, and I got him out of here. And then... I know I danced with Lisa for a while."

"Oh, that's good." Lance slid the cake plate towards himself. "She always complains if there isn't at least one straight boy who will flirt with her."

"I'm glad to be of service." JC pulled the plate back again and took a forkful of frosting. "Then... um. I got felt up by a guy in a striped pink shirt."

"Oh yeah?" Lance grinned. "Tall guy? Horizontal stripes?"

JC nodded. His mouth was too full of chocolate to answer.

"That bastard." Lance didn't sound angry. He sounded like he would if they were talking about a Chris prank.

"He looked vaguely like Justin," JC said. "Like if Justin were a real blond."

"Oh god, don't say that. I'll have to break up with him."

"You're--?"

Jesus. Lance wasn't supposed to sleep with him when he had a boyfriend.

"He's fun, it's casual. How much of a feel did he get?"

He tried to remember. Pink shirt. Dark eyes. Big hands. Really nice long fingers.

"Uh. I think... pretty thorough?"

Lance laughed. "Maybe I shouldn't have sent him away. We could've had a threesome."

"What?"

"We were going to bed, but I opened the door and saw you, so I..." Lance shrugged. "I made my apologies and sent him home."

"You..." They'd been going to bed; Lance had climbed into bed and he'd been hard. "You could have used another room."

"Nah, I give good apologies. I sent him home happy."

"I'm sorry," JC said. "I don't know why I--"

"I was glad to see you." Under the table, Lance's bare feet nudged against JC's. "So what happened after Petter felt you up?"

"The music changed."

He remembered that clearly. Someone had put on something trancey, but something about it had been a little off. It had been... well, kind of like what monks might do if they got bored with Gregorian chants and decided to branch out into electronic dance music, a technically-perfect composition that somehow failed to grasp its own _raison d'etre_. And there'd been that light, light like it was coming from under water.

"Maybe I was out by the pool? I don't... Nothing's clear. Just... lights and music and I woke up in your bed."

"'C..." Lance's voice was tight. JC looked up and Lance was pale. "It kind of sounds like you were roofied."

What? No. It wasn't like that.

"No," JC said. "No. That's not-- Aren't there side effects? Vomiting? Dizziness?"

"JC..."

"There's nothing like that. I'm fine. There was just--" Lights and sound and an electric pulse that he'd felt before, that he still felt even though it was hours later. Lights and music and... "It was nothing. Except... If I didn't know better--" He shook his head and forced a laugh. "--I'd say I was abducted by aliens."

"What?!"

Wow, Lance's eyes could get really, seriously huge.

"It was kind of like I was somewhere else, and uh... Lost time, right? It's one of the signs of a close encounter of the second kind."

"And you..." Lance scrubbed a hand across his face, then stood up and got a bottle of water from the 'fridge. "And you think alien abduction is a more likely explanation than being slipped something in a drink?"

JC watched Lance's back and shoulders flex as he twisted the bottle open and lifted it for a drink. "I'm joking," he said. "Or... I'm mostly joking? I don't really think..."

Lance's cell phone was charging on the counter. He plunked the bottle down beside it, grabbed it, and returned to the table.

"We can call someone. There are tests for most date-rape drugs. They metabolize quickly, but we're still in the window. We can--"

"I just had too much to drink."

"Are you sure? The tests-- I'm pretty sure they're urine, not blood."

"Lance. I was drunk. I got high. If they test me, they're going to find a lot of shit I took deliberately and... I probably just ended up staring at your fish tank for an hour before wandering off to bed."

"Nobody knew where you were."

"Your bedroom's usually off-limits. No one would have looked for me there. Did you?"

"No, but--"

"I'm fine. The alien thing, it's just, you know, something I'd think because I'm JC Chasez and he's a little... out there."

"Don't say that. I don't think you're like that. You're... open-minded, it's part of why you're so good at what you do. And. I'm not saying there's no such thing as aliens because we both know the universe is bigger than we could ever imagine."

"It is. It's..." JC wasn't sure what he wanted to say, so he just made an expansive gesture.

Lance nodded. "But I think... all those alien abduction stories are a bunch of drivel. I mean, what's the point? Any race with the technology to get here--and not just get here, but to be stealthy and subtle and under-the-radar about it? They're going to have the capability to learn about us without resorting to anything so crude. Capture and release like that, it's... caveman science."

"Is that, is that the official NASA stance?"

Lance laughed. "No. Sorry, that's just from being stuck watching _Star Trek_ with you guys too many times."

"It's cool, man."

"No, it's just..." Lance shook his head. "Look, this is LA. There are plenty of labs that will run those tests and not look twice at anything else that shows up in the report."

"No."

"We can keep your name out of it."

"And then what? If there is something, you'll have to look at all of your friends and wonder which one tried something like that? And which one might try something like that again? No. I'm fine. I'm better than fine."

"But--" Lance stopped. He rapped his fingers against the table, and then lay his hand over JC's. "No, you're right. It's your body, so... Yeah, whatever you say. And I've got to pick up my dogs from Lisa's. You wanna take a shower and then come with? We can take 'em to the park and then just hang out tonight, the two of us."

"Yeah," JC said. "That sounds great."

*

Lance had to get dressed, so he followed JC upstairs. He picked out a T-shirt and slipped into a pair of jeans, and once he heard the shower start, he allowed himself a moment to just stand there and shake. If one of his "friends" had done something to JC, they'd regret it.

Did he want to find out that some unknown friend had slipped JC some Rohypnol? Hell, no. Would he like some medically-backed reassurance that JC hadn't been drugged? Yes. Was reassurance worth the risk of learning that he had an untrustworthy friend? Absolutely.

And if he couldn't convince JC to get tested? Then what?

Well, there was one other possibility that he could rule out. It was wildly improbable, but checking on it would at least be doing something. And JC took long showers, so he should have plenty of time to check on it now.

His secure line was in the basement. It was disguised as an ancient rotary phone, and he kept it in plain view as part of a quaint little display that he'd stolen straight from the pages of the poor, maligned _Country Living_ magazine. He didn't care what his friends said; he liked his decorating scheme. It was both pleasant to look at and subtly misleading.

Diane answered. "Lance? Are you okay? This isn't a scheduled call."

"Hey, Mom. I need to find something out."

"Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, sorry. I'm fine. It's, uh. Can you check if there's been any fly-bys? Especially if there were any last night?"

"I could. How close?"

"Anything within transporter range?"

"Oh, honey." Diane sighed. "I don't have to check the scanner logs for that. There's nothing interesting in this system right now. There's just Mir and a lot of garbage."

That's what he'd expected.

"Thanks, Mom."

"Why did you ask?"

"It's nothing."

"Now I know you wouldn't break protocol for 'nothing.' Tell me what's happened."

"You'll laugh at me."

"Don't you make me get Jim on the line, young man."

"No," he said. "Don't bother Dad, it's not necessary. I'm already talking to my scariest parent."

She laughed, obviously flattered, and Lance quickly spun a tale of drunken friends and UFO sightings for her. It was close enough to the truth and he needed to get back up to JC.

*

In the end, Lance allowed JC's stubbornness to prevail. There was, at the absolute most, a five-day window in which the tests would be effective. On the third day, when JC was still countering all of his logic with "no," Lance decided that it was time to either pull out his ultimate weapon or surrender to the inevitable.

JC wouldn't refuse if Lance said, "Please? Do it for me, to make me feel better." But Lance couldn't bring himself to ask for that.

It all boiled down to JC's peace of mind. If JC didn't want to face the possibility that he'd been... that he'd been... Hell, Lance couldn't even say it to himself, so if JC would rather think that he'd simply had too much to drink, then Lance had to let it go. And if he'd rather think that he'd been abducted by aliens, then that was okay, too. It wouldn't hurt anything and it seemed to make him happy.

He had to question that choice two weeks later when JC turned up on his doorstep and asked if he could stay.

"I'm so tired," JC said. "There's things. I can't... Can I sleep here? I'll keep out of your way and just--"

Lance pulled him inside.

"Come on, you're always welcome."

All sorts of scenarios ran through his head. If JC had some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder, what should he do? He was an expert at living under constant high-levels of stress, but dealing with actual trauma was beyond his expertise.

But his worries quickly eased. JC seemed normal. Sure, he was easily startled and prone to staring off into space. He was twitchy and distracted, and his sleeping pattern was erratic. But Lance had seen JC go through similar phases before. JC turned things upside down and made "strange" normal. It was part of his artistic temperament: a hypersensitivity to certain stimuli which lead to periods of over-stimulation and a general, all-pervasive oddity.

Lance decided that his role in this was simple. He would provide as soothing an environment as he could. And, just to keep an eye on him, he would encourage JC to stay for as long as he wished. JC's increased cuddliness--the way Lance kept waking up to find JC's arm slung across his hips and JC's nose tucked under his armpit--and his increased desire to suck Lance's dick had nothing to do with this decision.

Well.

Maybe it had, just a little. But not so much that Lance had trouble facing himself in the mirror, and wasn't that what counted?

*

Lance's New Year's resolution had been to make activism one of his main priorities. It made some people laugh, because his party-boy image was so strong, but he was serious about it.

Repealing Proposition 8 was at the top of his list. Equality was important no matter what, but Prop 8 also had an impact on his personal life. He didn't have any current prospects, but he was going to find a husband and start a family sometime this decade, and he'd rather do that in California than anywhere else.

His schedule for Memorial Day weekend had been set months ago. There was a series of demonstrations and fund-raising events planned as a great, three-day, gay pilgrimage from LA, through San Francisco, to the Capitol in Sacramento. He'd been really looking forward to it, but he still offered to stay behind with JC instead. JC got really mad at that and practically pushed him out the door while making noises about fussy mother hens and how he'd stayed too long already.

When Lance called him on Sunday, JC was back at his own place and making plans to re-carpet the hallway. So, it was a surprise to come home and see one of Justin's cars in the driveway alongside JC's.

He followed the sound of Justin's voice, which was pitched somewhat louder than his normal indoors level, to the kitchen and paused just outside the doorway. JC was sitting at the breakfast nook, his head tilted thoughtfully as he paged through a book. A good stack of five or six books was waiting beside him.

Justin was out of his line of sight, but he was saying, "Hey, he has a wok. A wok would work, right? It's all Asian and stuff."

Another voice said, "You don't need to get fancy, baby. A plain skillet will do." So that was why Justin was speaking too loudly. He had his momma on speaker phone.

"And he's got a fondue pot! Why don't I have a fondue pot? My kitchen should be better equipped than his. I have restaurants."

"But you don't like fondue," Lynn said.

Lance edged forward, trying to see what Justin was doing without being spotted himself. Drawers and cabinets were hanging open. A wide assortment of knives, pots and pans, and cooking oils were spread out across the counter, flanking a small produce bag.

"And you don't really cook," JC said.

"I cook!"

"You cook by calling your mother," JC said.

Justin sputtered, and Lynn said, "There's nothing wrong with that. It keeps me from getting lonely."

"Ha! Hear that?" Justin turned toward JC, and Lance snuck up behind him. JC could see him, but Lance held a finger to his lips and JC kept quiet. "Once again, I am... justified!"

Lance dug deep and drew out his best drawl. "Oh my god, Justin Timberlake's going through my drawers!"

Justin's startled squeak was quite satisfying, as was JC and Lynn's laughter.

"Today," Lance said, "I am the happiest gay man alive!"

"Fucker," Justin said, but he was smiling as he socked Lance's arm in greeting.

"Hey, Lynn," Lance said.

"Hey, honey."

"Your boy's making a mess of my kitchen."

"I was afraid of that. Maybe you should take over for him. And Justin? Call me later, baby."

"No, no, don't hang up!" Justin scrambled for the phone and then headed out of the room with it.

"Hey," Lance said, walking over to JC.

"Hey." JC smiled brightly and stood up. "Good trip?"

"Real good, yeah."

"Yay," JC said and kissed him.

That was new.

Oh, being kissed by 'C wasn't new. But this was different. It had a lot more sweet mixed in with the hot than their kisses usually did, and... and Justin was here. Justin could walk in and see. What was JC doing?

Eventually, JC smiled against his lips and took a half-step back. He fiddled with the neck of Lance's shirt, like he was trying to make his collar lie flat, except Lance's shirt was collarless.

"Is it okay?" JC said. "That Justin's here? I know you're not-- The two of you aren't quite--"

Out of all of them, JC had the most trouble with the distance between him and Justin. It wasn't that he disapproved or that he couldn't handle conflict. It was like somehow his emotional navigation system was broken. He couldn't gauge the distance between them, so he often tiptoed around when Lance and Justin were just fine and strode in unguarded when things were heated and tense.

It was, possibly, a brilliant tactical move on C's part. Their efforts to protect JC from the worst of their anger and disappointment with each other were a major force healing their relationship.

"It's okay," Lance said. "We're okay. He's not my favorite person in the world, but he's making a strong come back."

"He's bringing sexy back?"

Lance coughed. "No. I'm bringing sexy back."

"You are," JC said. He slid his hands down and squeezed Lance's biceps. "You're so fucking hot."

"Thanks." For one fleeting second, Lance considered laying JC out across the table and properly paying back the compliment, but Justin was here, and--

"Hey, hey, did you tell him yet?"

Speak of the Devil.

JC startled, bumping into the table and knocking a book to the floor.

"No, Justin. I-- Did you have to just blurt it out like that?"

Lance knelt to pick up the book. It was _What to Expect When You're Expecting_ , which was, huh, unexpected. He looked at it, at the drawing of the lady on the cover, and then looked up, at Justin who was staring at JC, and JC who wasn't looking at anyone.

"Well." Lance stood up. "Justin? Do you and Jessica have big news?"

JC said, "Oh my god," and took the book from his hands.

Justin blushed. "Dude, no. It would be cool, I'd love to have babies. But she's got this career plan and--"

"I'm pregnant," JC said.

Lance wished he was still holding the book so he could drop it or do something dramatic with it. Instead, he sat down. It lacked drama, but made up for it with safety and common sense.

"What?"

"I uh... I know what you said about the aliens, that they wouldn't. But. I was abducted by aliens and impregnated."

Oh sweet lord.

"On my birthday," Lance said.

JC nodded. He was so earnest, and... Jesus. When Lance had drawn up his mental list of danger signs to look out for--heavy drinking, excessive drug use, suicidal thoughts, not eating, sleeping too much or not sleeping at all--he hadn't even considered this.

"No one expects the Spanish Inquisition," he said while his mind was doing that hamster wheel thing, racing fast and getting nowhere.

JC blinked. "What?"

"Chris used to say that," Justin said. Lance looked over at him, and man, maybe they weren't close anymore, but he could still read that look loud and clear. _Don't be an asshole. Humor him._

"Okay," Lance said. "Why do you think you're pregnant?"

"Yeah," Justin said. "You haven't explained that part to me yet."

"You haven't made lunch for me yet."

"But Lance was gonna make it."

"Lance is still processing," JC said. "You should--"

"No," Lance said. "I'll make it." It would be easier to think if he was doing something.

"Great." Justin started to sit down.

"Oh, no you don't." Lance caught hold of his sleeve. "I'll cook while you clean up your mess."

"But I don't know where everything goes!"

JC laughed. "Aw, poor J. I'll help."

Lance shook his head. "You sit down and tell me what I'm fixing for lunch."

"Bok choy," JC said.

"Bok choy!" Justin sang.

"Bok choy and what?"

"Bok choy." JC shrugged. "I just wanted bok choy."

"Bok bok bok," Justin said. "We sound like a bunch of chickens."

"Chicken sounds good, too," JC said.

Oh good lord.

"Bok bok bok," Justin said again.

Lance set his wok on the stove and grabbed a knife and cutting mat before Justin could put them away. The produce bag had three heads of baby bok choy which would chop up quickly, and there should be pre-packaged chicken breast strips in the freezer. It wasn't fine dining, but it would do.

He glanced over at JC, and he was still standing there, turning the pregnancy book over and over in his hands.

"JC?" he said gently, and smiled when 'C looked up and met his eyes. "I think Justin's ready for story time."

He put the chicken in the microwave to defrost, and then tore the bok choy apart and washed it while JC told Justin about the time missing from his party.

Rape, he thought, shaking the leaves out and beginning to trace a likely progression of the delusion. If a woman was raped, pregnancy would be a real fear. Lance couldn't think of much worse, to have your sense of safety in your own body ripped away, to have something wonderful turned into a weapon against you, and then, to top it all off, to have to face that? Creating a child was about--it ought to be about--love and commitment and making a promise to the future. Rape made a mockery of those things before tearing them away and burning them to ashes.

He had to grip the counter for a moment and breathe carefully, so he wouldn't get sick.

Okay, so. Fear. Even if you hadn't been raped, if you thought that maybe you had, if you didn't know for sure, that uncertainty might magnify the fear. And hysterical pregnancies could be caused by a great desire for or a great fear of pregnancy. But JC wasn't a woman...

"Dude," Justin said. "What's wrong with you? You should have gotten those tests like Lance said."

"I didn't-- I didn't want to. Something in my gut told me not to."

"You can't do that. What does your gut know? You've got to take care of yourself. If I were you--"

Of course, there was that syndrome where expectant fathers experienced pregnancy symptoms along with their wives. Ford had had morning sickness when he and Stacy were expecting Leyton. But it was a bit of a leap, going from hysterical pregnancies to hysterical sympathetic pregnancies. Who was JC in sympathy with? His feminine side?

The microwave dinged and Justin was saying, "What do you mean 'stuff'? What sort of stuff?" and Lance realized that he'd been washing bok choy leaves for a crazy long time.

"Just stuff. Like I keep dreaming about blue light and my nipples hurt and--"

"Whoa, whoa!" Justin said. "TMI."

"You asked," Lance told him.

"But he didn't have to tell me!"

"And then today," JC said. "I was standing at Starbucks feeling like I could kill for a green tea latte and it was taking forever because they'd like run out of venti cups, right? And the people in front of me, they couldn't be sensible. No. No, a grande wouldn't be enough. They all had to have two grandes if they couldn't have a venti."

Justin snickered.

"It's not funny. You have no idea. I'm a peaceful guy, but I was so close to wringing someone's neck or maybe just crawling over the counter and helping myself--"

Lance would have liked to see that.

"--And there were these two ladies behind me with these little kids. And they were talking about their pregnancies and the one lady said that she could barely eat when she was pregnant because everything smelled so bad. And the other lady was like, 'Oh my god, me too! I mean, I ate like a pig, but oh my god, my sense of smell was out of control!' And that's how I knew."

"Huh?" Justin said.

"My pee smells weird."

"What?!"

Lance had to laugh at the look on Justin's face.

"It smells really weird, I noticed it right away."

"Is it just your pee?" Lance asked.

"Dude," Justin said. "Don't. Don't even-- JC's not going to go around smelling other people's urine. He's not a freak."

"He'd just have to go into a public restroom, preferably one with lots of urinals."

"That's gross."

"It really is," JC said. "Like, in my head? Pee doesn't have a smell. Pee happens, then flush, it's gone. No smell. But now I can't stop noticing it, and yeah, Lance, everyone's pee smells. A lot. But mine smells different."

"Different from everyone else's? Or different from before?"

"Oh my god," Justin said. "Where's my hand sanitizer?"

He left the room.

"Both," JC said. "At first, I thought it was a roofie or something just like you'd said, and I was smelling it as it washed out of my system, you know? But it kept on smelling different. It's not bad or anything, but it's really distinct and I keep-- I keep fucking noticing it."

"Does anything else smell? Like is it only your--" Lance chuckled. "Sorry. Um, is it only your pee sense that's tingling?"

JC laughed and finally put the book down.

"No, I'm noticing other smells too. Don't tell Joey. He'll be so disappointed that I'm not Spider Man."

"But being bitten by a radioactive spider, that's got to be at least as likely as alien-assisted male pregnancy."

"Yeah, but... aliens are a lot less creepy."

"What else smells?" Lance said, pouring a couple tablespoons' worth of oil into the wok.

"Oh man. Lots of things. Like, uh... soap. Like body wash and dish soap smell really strong. And--" JC stepped close and lowered his voice. "--you smell incredible, like seriously I-wanna-eat-you-up delicious."

Lance's body filled with heat that definitely wasn't from the stove.

"Yeah?"

"God, yeah. You smell like sex and popcorn, all salty-sweet. It makes me want to lick you so bad--"

Oh, this was dangerous. Lance wanted to just shove him against the refrigerator and--

"--and you're musky, too. Like... nutmeg and hot man. Like if gingerbread men were real, and sexy, they'd smell just like you. Oh, hey, Justin. Have you been washing your hands this whole time?"

Fuck. For the sake of everyone's sanity, Lance needed to focus solely on finishing the lunch prep.

He stuck a rice bowl in the microwave, tossed the chicken strips in the wok, and let Justin and JC's conversation flow around him, unheeded. He didn't look up from his work until he was scooping stir-fry out onto plates and Justin began clearing the books off the table.

"JC," Lance said. "You didn't go out yourself and buy a ton of pregnancy books, did you? It'll be months of 'Who is JC's Baby Mama?'"

"Nah," Justin said, "it'll be 'Justin's Secret Love Child! Insiders report that JC Chavez, one of the superstar's erstwhile bandmates, was sent to purchase parenting manuals while the star himself hid outside in his car.'"

Unfortunately, that wasn't even a joke. It was a bit surprising, though, that Justin knew how to use "erstwhile" in a sentence.

"I'm smarter than that," JC said. "I had a plan." He pulled the top book from the stack in Justin's arms. "See? This is about fly-fishing. I thought maybe Chris would like it." He put that one back and pulled out another. "And this one's for my dad. It's about this guy training dogs for the Iditarod. And--"

"I'm not a book shelf, you're going to make me drop them."

"You're more graceful than that, you'll be fine. This is a cookbook. I don't know, I liked the pictures. Someone will want it. And this one I got for you, Lance. It's the coming out stories of a bunch of professional businessmen, and it sounded kind of interesting, and like, way to throw 'em off track, right? A pregnancy book and Gay Studies? Obviously they're not all for the same person."

"And you didn't get me one?" Justin said.

"Sure, I did. It's on the bottom."

Justin tried to flip the entire stack over and dropped them all.

"Let's eat," Lance said while Justin was kneeling on the floor, smiling at a big, thick biography of Thelonious Monk.

*

Later, after Justin left, JC curled up on the loveseat with _What to Expect_. Lance wasn't in a reading mood, but he took his new book and joined him.

He watched JC read for a while, amused--and more than a little charmed--by how he would avidly read one section, then make a face and hurriedly skim through the next several pages. He wondered how much of the text would be left if someone took a Sharpie and drew a line through every mention of blood, needles, incisions or any other squishy medical stuff. Every page would probably look like a zebra.

"You know," Lance said, "that book is about human babies. I'm not sure how much it's going to help you."

"I do know, but they didn't exactly have a copy of 'What to Expect When You're Expecting an Alien Baby,' so. I'll just have to make do."

"You're, uh. Earlier... You were nervous, but you seemed excited about this."

"Oh, yeah, totally. This is such an opportunity. I mean, I've known, I've known for years that there was more to the universe than just us. I knew we couldn't be out here all alone. But I've never had any proof, just my own convictions, and to suddenly have them confirmed? And to be a part of something like this? It's huge. I'm really excited."

Underneath all of the flaky layers, JC was such a good person. It was... Well, it was sort of a shame. It was hard to imagine JC with normal kids, but he'd probably be a great parent for a little alien stuck far away from home.

It was really too bad.

"It's impossible, you know. Biologically speaking."

"Hmm?"

"You're talking about a human/alien hybrid. Nature doesn't really like hybrids, at least not in the animal kingdom."

"There's mules."

"Okay, yes. There are mules, but they're sterile, which is pretty much nature's way of saying, 'Oops, that shouldn't happen anymore.' And also, horses and donkeys, they're pretty similar. They're really close cousins on the evolution family tree. But an alien and a human? That would be like... horses and whales. No. Even more than that, because horses and whales are both mammals. It's like horses and sharks--"

JC started laughing.

"What?"

JC leaned against him and continued giggling. Lance rubbed his back until he stopped.

"Those would be some mean sea horses," JC finally said. "Really fierce, killer sea horses. Rar!"

His lips brushed Lance's neck, sending shivers down his spine, and making Lance forget the rest of his point.

*

Later still, JC spooned up behind Lance and whispered, "Thank you."

"Hmm?" Lance was almost asleep.

"I know you don't believe me, but you were really sweet about it today. I didn't expect that. I should have. I mean, I didn't expect you to be mean to me, but--"

"Hush, 'C. Bedtime."

"It's just... Everything. It's all so surprising."

"It's tricky like that," Lance said. He felt like the words were trickling out of him like honey. Maybe he was dreaming already. "The universe... It's a funny place."


	2. When what he does to you, you can't explain, he's so good

JC sped through _What to Expect_. It was easy. Half of the book--all of the stuff about birthing coaches and selecting hospitals, the different kinds of delivery, and what to do with your new one once you brought it home--didn't pertain to him. The aliens would take care of all that. And he was disappointed once he had finished it; he didn't have anything to do.

"You could go shopping," Lance said. "You can look at furniture and buy baby things, and hey, even pick up some yarn so you can knit little sweaters with extra armholes for all of baby's tentacles."

Lance was so totally humoring him, but JC didn't mind. His sarcasm didn't have the edge to it that Chris' had. He just kept speaking normally in his rumbly, matter-of-fact voice.

"Do you think it has tentacles?" JC rubbed his belly. It was perfectly flat, and he knew it would probably remain that way for a while, but pregnancy was a fun new excuse for touching himself. He should take advantage of it. "That would be cool. I wonder what it will feel like moving inside of me."

"Stacy said it felt a lot like gas at first."

"That doesn't count. Stacy didn't have tentacle babies."

"No," Lance said. "That's true enough."

"I do want to go shopping, but there's no point. I'm not keeping the baby."

"Uh." Lance looked up from his laptop. "JC, you're... what? Aborting your imaginary baby so soon?"

"It's not imaginary! But I'm not keeping it. Its parents are going to come back for it."

"'Its parents'? As in more than one?"

"Mmmhmm. I didn't tell you yesterday because you were having so much fun explaining about the sea horses, but it's not a hybrid. It's a one-hundred-percent-alien baby. I'm just carrying it, I'm its womb."

"I'm pretty sure you can't _be_ a womb if you don't _have_ a womb."

"Then I'm an incubator. Is that better?"

"No. No, actually, it's not. Haven't you seen _Alien_?"

"No, my parents wouldn't let me see it, and then I heard it was scary. I don't--"

"Do me a favor, 'C."

"Yeah?"

"Don't watch it."

"No problem. I'm really not interested in supporting a franchise that perpetuates the prevailing wind of xenophobia in our society, you know? Oh, oh, just because something is new and different, it has to be scary? I don't think so. We should be role-models, open to new peoples and new--"

"Didn't you--? Isn't that the speech you used to convince Justin to try sushi?"

"Is it?" Hmm, yeah. Maybe it was. "Well, it's still applicable."

"Uh-huh. You're a real peach, 'C. And that? That was a real peach of a speech."

"Oh, shut up," JC said, laughing and looking for something to throw at him. The only thing handy was his book, though, and that was too heavy. "You're never serious when you talk like ol' Bubba Bass."

"Sure, I am. Sometimes."

"No, you're not, you're never..."

Well, except for sometimes in bed. Sometimes, when Lance was being fucked just right, his accent grew thick like that and JC would push over and over again into him, just giving him everything, letting him have it, anything to keep him sounding like that, and um...

"I can tell what you're thinking."

"You wanna?"

"Well," Lance said. "Normally I'd need a better pickup line, but since you were complaining about having nothing to do..."

*

Once JC had realized what was happening to him, it was like these mental gates had flung wide open. He knew things about the aliens, just small things, just a taste that left him wishing for more, but it was enough to put him at ease. He didn't feel so twitchy anymore, and he could nap now without Lance beside him, which was important because his body was tired from placenta-building and stuff.

He knew he should go home. But just to be safe, because the book had explained how very important adequate rest was, he waited two more weeks. And then he really had to go home. He'd been pretty much living with Lance for a month; he couldn't keep cramping Lance's style like that.

"Why?" Lance said.

"Because this is your house, and I have one of my own and I should be there."

"Why?" Lance said, but before JC could get frustrated and start counting down every last reason, he continued. "I'm not trapping you here. If you really want to go, then by all means go. But I'm enjoying your company, and I'd... I think... I'm going to be annoyed if all of your reasons for leaving are 'because you should.'"

"But--"

"I'd like it if you stayed."

Oh, well, if Lance put it that way...

"But I need my studio. I'm working on some alien music."

"You can go and come back. I'll draw you a map."

JC smiled at that. "Well, I suppose... if you're going to draw me a map."

"I knew I'd win you with my mad logistical skills."

"Yeah? Maybe I'm too predictable."

"Trust me, 'C, that's the last thing you are."

"Because I'm a crazy pregnant man."

"Well, yes, but--" Lance grinned like a shark. "--lucky for me, you're still hot and I'm pretty sure that you're not going to lose your figure."

"You're going to regret saying that when I'm eight-months pregnant and as big as a house."

"I willing to take my chances," Lance said. "Now, will you come here?"

"I don't know. Do I trust you?"

"Mmmhmm." Lance snagged him around the waist and pulled him into his lap.

"Hey," JC said. Even as a token protest, it was pretty weak.

"Hey." Lance nuzzled behind his ear. "Mmm... Have you changed your cologne?"

"Nope."

"Hmm." Lance nuzzled at him more, before licking his jaw. "I think your scent really has changed. I want to bite you." The last was almost a growl.

"Ah, fuck." That made JC squirm. He loved the growling, it was all primal and shit, like archetypes. Lance was all Strong Male and JC... Yeah, mmm, his pants were getting tight already. JC was all Earth Mother with a Dick, subversive and sexy and--

"Can I? Can I bite you?"

"Yeah, yeah." JC twisted and shifted his legs to kneel astride one of Lance's thighs. "What do I smell like?"

Lance pulled at his shirt and licked his neck. "I want to bite you. You smell like me... No, that's not..." He sucked at JC's neck just enough so that when he let go, the sound was wet and sloppy and dirty.

JC loved that. He struggled to get his fly open while rocking against Lance's thigh.

"God, 'C, I need... Can I bite you? I wanna mark you, I wanna--"

"Yeah, god, do it." He finally had his dick out, but he didn't have enough of Lance, just his hard thigh to rub against and the press of Lance's dick against his knee. He tugged at Lance's shirt, or at least tried to, but Lance was dragging his mouth lower, trails of sensation and teeth scraping with just the right amount of hard edge, and fuck, he'd been leaving Lance, letting him go back to his playing fields and this is what he got?

"Are your tits still--?"

JC gasped at just the thought. "No, don't."

Lance pressed his palm flat against JC's pec, and even that was almost too much. Almost, but not, and it made JC buck against him and abandon Lance's shirt so he could pull hard at his own dick.

"Oh, yeah," Lance said. "Do you wanna come on me? That would be hot. That would be-- We should get you naked. You naked and me like this--"

"Your clothes..." JC wouldn't have any trouble coming. He was working his dick and humping Lance and everything was good, so good, but Lance liked his clothes, liked to look fresh and--

"They'll wash. You can get 'em all dirty and nasty, I'll let you. But come on, let's..." Lance tipped JC back-- "Careful, hang on." --and laid him out on the floor. He shoved the armchair back and yanked at JC's pants, dragging them down till JC could kick them off. "Yeah, that's it. Spread out. I don't wanna miss anything."

Jesus.

"Which of us-- Oh, yeah. Which of us is the nasty boy?"

"Mmm, pretty sure it's the guy all on display." Lance pinned his hips down. "The one who would masturbate on stage given half the chance."

Lance bit all over his hips and his thighs, sucking hard at times to make marks and more of those lewd, sloppy noises, and when JC could barely stand it anymore, oh shit, Lance opened wide and got behind his balls just right, with gentle suction on his balls and the flat of his tongue pressing strong in between.

"Lance, fuck. Fuck. Don't..." It was so sweet, the pressure was so good, but it was torture. He couldn't jerk himself hard with Lance doing that, it was too--

Lance eased up a little and pulled JC's hand away from his dick. "Come on, I've got it. I've got you."

"Lan--" JC's voice broke as Lance finally, finally touched his dick. And Lance finished him off quickly, all lightning fast strokes at the top, and JC mindless and cursing without a sound.

*

When JC had his breath back and could lift his head off the floor, he said, "Wow, that was... that was really..."

Lance handed him a cloth.

"Thanks." JC wiped at the mess on his belly. "That was intense, that was so-- Hey! This is my shirt."

"Yep, it is."

"I thought we were going to mess up your clothes."

"Maybe next time," Lance said, and then JC remembered an important detail. Lance hadn't come.

"Oh, you didn't-- Let me help you with--"

"I can wait. There was something I meant to talk to you about before I distracted you."

"Man, you can distract me like that anytime. That was so... All the biting and the... guh. You're not usually so..."

"Aggressive?" Lance said. "I was a little--"

"So Alpha Male."

Lance made a face. "I don't want to be like that, I don't... I acted like I owned you or something."

"What? No, you didn't!"

"I wanted to mark you all up, make you wear my mark."

"You asked first. And you were hot, you were so fucking hot, Lance. So confident. You're a real take-charge guy, but you hold back on it sometimes, like sometimes a lot. And it was... I liked it."

"I think I was too possessive."

Lance looked so uncomfortable. JC had to do something to rescue the mood or Lance would always remember feeling awkward afterward instead of the great sex.

"I liked it. You're like my Scott Baio now."

"What?"

"You know. _Charles in Charge_." JC sang a bit of the theme song, "'Of our days and our nights... I want Charles in charge of me.'"

"You are insane."

"Didn't you listen to my disclaimer? I told you I was a crazy pregnant man."

"JC, I..."

Lance stopped, and JC waited, but Lance didn't say anything more.

"Um," JC said. "Are you okay?"

Lance kissed him, soft and slow, with just a little tongue. JC thought that was probably a yes.

"I was..." Lance said eventually. "It's stupid, but I think I was a little jealous of your imaginary aliens, and that's why--"

"Jealous? Aw, man. I'm sorry. When they come for the baby, if they let me meet them then, I'll ask if you can meet them, too. I mean, if I'm staying here for a while, it's like... Oh, hey, it's like you're my birthing coach! Not for the delivery, but still. You're playing an important role in their baby's prenatal care."

"Oh my god," Lance said.

"I know, right? It'll be awesome."

*

One thing led to another and Lance didn't get around to the topic he wanted to discuss until the next day.

"I think you should tell Joey and Chris."

"Oh," JC said and immediately looked guilty.

"And that's why," Lance said. He gestured at C's expression, which shouldn't have made any sense, but he was pretty sure that JC understood. "That's not the only reason, but it's a big one. Why aren't you telling them, when not telling them makes you feel like crap?"

"Chris won't believe me."

"JC, that's not-- I don't believe you. Justin doesn't believe you. You still told us, you still talk about it with us."

"Because you're nice about it."

"Chris will be nice about it, after he gets over his initial laughter. And you know why he'll be nice about it?"

"Because he loves a good joke?"

"Well, yeah. But more than that, he cares about you, and if he really believed that you'd been knocked up by aliens, he'd be scared shitless but he'd still come running to your rescue if you needed help."

JC frowned and Lance would have felt bad for upsetting him, if he wasn't so certain that he was right and this was important.

"And why aren't you telling Joey?"

JC looked down at his hands. "Because I couldn't... It wouldn't be fair if I told Joey and not Chris."

 

Good then. At least JC realized that.

"You need to tell them--and it's not about being fair to them, it's about what is best for you. They're your friends. This is a big, exciting thing for you, and you want to tell them. You want to share it with them."

"You're right," JC said. "I do."

Lance left it alone after that. Delusions aside, JC was a grown man capable of making his own decisions. And Lance didn't like being a nag. He'd give it some time before bringing it up again.

A couple days later, JC was back at his own place to work on his music and "No offense, man, but I've got to soak up a different aesthetic for a while." Whatever that was supposed to mean. Lance was finalizing plans for an upcoming appearance on the _Ellen DeGeneres Show_. The appearance itself didn't need much planning, but he wanted to take Portia and Ellen out afterward and that required some doing. His mind was still on the problem of finding a trendy new vegan restaurant that wasn't too trendy or new, when he answered his phone.

"Hello?"

"Jesus Christ, Bass, are you insane?"

It was Chris.

"Only when I think of you. I drive myself crazy, thinking of you."

"Ha!" Chris barked. "Well, now that you've gotten that line out of the way--and how long have you been waiting to use that? Twelve years? Somebody needs to get you a life--let's move on to more important things like, why are you encouraging him? Jesus. He doesn't need any help being--"

"I see you're still taking your coffee with five sugars."

"Three, and this isn't funny. Alien babies, Lance. Alien ass babies in all likelihood 'cause I can't think of any other way for them to get there. And you're encouraging--"

"It is funny," Lance said, "if you don't take it too seriously."

"He's taking it seriously! And you're his fucking birthing coach, which, I'm sorry, but what the hell? What do you know about birthing babies?"

"So... let me get this straight. Your biggest problem with this is that he asked me to be his birthing coach instead of you?"

Silence met his question and Lance listened to it with interest. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi... It wasn't often that Chris was speechless for so long.

Finally, Chris chuckled. "No, no, you're right. What do I know about alien ass babies? You, at least, have a profound understanding of asses and, dare I say, extensive in-depth knowledge of the Chasez ass, so. You're the best man for the job."

"Thanks," Lance said. "That's a really glowing endorsement there. I hadn't realized that my... level of expertise in that area was so widely known."

"Oh, come on, you told _People_. The world knows."

"I meant JC. My, um, in-depth knowledge."

"He's been staying at your place and he sounds happy and well-fucked. I can put two and two together."

If Chris knew, others would know, and Lance wasn't sure how he felt about that. He wasn't ashamed of hooking up with JC; everyone knew that Lance had loved and admired him for years. But JC wasn't out. Surprisingly, JC wasn't even all that gay. And that kind of niggled at him. A secret wasn't really a secret until you started actively hiding it from others. His thing with JC had been a pre-secret, a proto-secret, and now, well... Lance had enough secrets already.

On the other hand, JC was a secret worth having and what was one more secret in the grand scheme of things?

He talked with Chris until the conversation turned to why baseball would be better with cheerleaders. There were many things that Lance liked about women, but boobs and pompoms weren't anywhere on that list.

He'd barely put the phone down before it rang again.

"Hey," Joey said. "Is JC okay?"

Apparently, "soaking up the aesthetic" was JC-ese for "getting my ass in gear and making some calls." Lance approved.

"Yeah. I think so, but... Aw, Joey. I think maybe something bad happened to him, but he's--"

 

"What happened?"

"--going to be okay. It's not my place to say what happened, but, you know, I think that... subconsciously he feels like he really needs his friends now. Like he needs to reconnect with us. Maybe the baby is a metaphor for that, for growing connections? I don't know. But it gives him a reason to reach out to us."

"Uh. Wow. That really sounds like, like I should be putting Kel on the line, you know? I'm not good at all that touchy-feely stuff."

"Are you kidding? You're great at it."

"Ah, ha, no. That's touching and feeling-up stuff. That's my super power."

"Yeah, yeah, I know there's more to you than that."

"Well, keep it to yourself. I don't want you ruining my reputation."

"Everyone knows that you're a big Care Bear, Joe. A big Care Bear with rude slogans on his belly instead of rainbows and--"

Joey laughed. "Fuck, no. Stop that. We're supposed to be serious here. Are you sure about 'C? That it's just a cry for attention? He could be sick."

"I don't think he's sick. I can't exactly say what's going through his head, but he seems fine. Healthy. In fact, maybe this is a good thing. He wasn't ever like seriously unhealthy, but now he's taking care to eat better and he's stopped drinking, so."

"Yeah? I bet he didn't give up weed, though."

"Oh, believe me, he didn't want to give it up. He had this whole theory about how maybe the aliens had chosen him because his body had reached optimal pot levels."

"What?"

"He said maybe it was like vitamins for them."

"Vitamin Mary-J! I love it."

"Well," Lance said. "He's given it up for the duration. I convinced him that if the aliens were as friendly as he said and they were truly concerned about their baby's well-being, then they would've at least left him a couple of dime bags after knocking him up."

Joey cracked up at that. Lance basked in the sound and the feeling of accomplishment it brought. Making Joey laugh was one of the best things on Earth, that and making JC smile. He was really inordinately lucky that he was deft at both of those things.  
Joey suggested that he and JC come for the Fourth. "After the barbecue, we can throw a little surprise baby thing."

Lance was tempted; no one put on a Fourth of July party quite like Joey did, and he hadn't seen his new goddaughter in almost two months. But...

"I don't know. Maybe we could hold off on that? You and Chris could come out here sometime soon?"

"Huh? You don't want to come to my party?"

"I love your parties."

"Is this about the flying? Man, JC will be okay for months still. It's only in the third trimester when ladies aren't supposed to fly."

"No, it's not that. You can fly with imaginary babies any time. I'm just thinking about Justin."

"About J?"

"I know he won't go for anything in Orlando, but--"

"Lance. What? Have you guys finally come to your senses? It wasn't that long ago when you were refusing to attend events if Justin was going to be there."

"It's not about me and J. It's about how important he is to 'C. JC won't-- If the four of us are together, in the back of his mind, JC's going to be sad. No, more than sad. A part of him is going to be grieving for Justin, that he's... alienated the rest of us."

"Oh, wow," Joey said. "You're like really sweet on 'C, aren't you?"

"What? That doesn't-- How do you get that from--?"

"It's okay. I'll work with Chris and make plans for something out there. Let me just make a note..."

"Thanks, Joe."

"Yeah, yeah. No problem, buddy. Okay, here's a pen. 'No alienation at the alien baby party.' Got it."

Lance was still grinning when JC got home.

*

Chris got in on the Friday after the Fourth, and he came bearing movies. JC thought movie night was a great idea, because movies meant popcorn and if he arranged things right, he could steal kisses from Lance while he was all buttery and see if it enhanced the whole salty-sweet thing Lance had going on these days.

Lance wasn't quite as enthusiastic, though.

"As host, I reserve the right of veto."

"Hey, no, that's not how it works," Chris said. "As host, you're supposed to be gracious and let us watch whatever we want."

Lance tried to look in Chris' bag of movies. Chris clasped the bag to his chest and ran to hide behind JC.

"No peeking!"

"Fine," Lance said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "What did you want to watch first?"

"I thought we could have an evening of classic cinema."

"Oh god, I'm afraid to ask," Lance said.

"First, there's a film from the year you were born, Bass. Just a little something I like to call _Alien_."

"No," Lance said.

"No," JC said. "I don't want to see that."

"Ah, you may think you have defeated me, but _au contraire_! I anticipated this setback and so, I also have both parts of the classic miniseries, _V_!"

"No," Lance said.

"I never saw the second part," JC said. "I liked the first. Some of the aliens were really--"

"No," Lance said.

"Fine," Chris said. "Obviously, you're not in the mood for classics tonight. I can work with that. How about the _Astronaut's Wife_? It has--"

"No."

"--Johnny Depp in it. Come on, Bass. You can't say 'no' to Johnny Depp. Everyone likes Johnny Depp. Hell, even AJ McLean has a man crush on him."

"No."

"What's it about?" JC asked. He liked Johnny Depp. Johnny was an amazing character actor and, like most people who were experts at their craft, he had an intensely compelling aura which probably made him dynamite in bed.

"Well, there's these astronauts and--"

"'C," Lance said. "You really don't want to see it."

"--Charlize Theron's pretty hot in it."

Lance liked Johnny, too. He wouldn't say no if there weren't a good reason for it.

"I'm sorry, Chris. I think we should pass," JC said.

"Aw, man. Who made Lance the boss? He's ruining Evil Alien Baby Theme Night!"

JC looked over at Lance and then smiled, remembering. "Charles is in charge," he told Chris and watched Lance's eyes heat up as he remembered, too.

"What? What is that? Are you guys doing nauseatingly-cute, secret couple's jokes now? I might have to be sick."

"We're not a couple." JC reached for Lance. "I just like holding my birthing coach's hand."

"Yeah," Lance said, taking JC's hand in his. "And when I kiss him? That's an advanced Lamaze technique."

Mmm, yeah. Breathing lessons. JC could get behind that.

"Fuck that," Chris said. "I'm going to watch _Battlestar Galatica_. I need an evil Cylon babe before all the sap in here kills me."

"Ooo, me too," JC said.

*

JC was certain that the secret to minimizing stretch marks was to get his skin into tip-top shape before anything unsightly happened. That night, while he was going through his moisturizing routine with Lance leaning against the bathroom counter watching, Lance cleared his throat and said, "You told Chris? About us?"

"Mmmhmm." JC spread a little more down to his right hip and thigh. "Is that okay?"

"I didn't know that we were telling people."

"Oh." JC wasn't sure. What exactly were they telling or not-telling people about? "Chris was worried, so I wanted him to know you were looking out for me. Did I-- Was that wrong?"

Lance shook his head. "No, I-- Oh come here, you're missing a spot."

"Hmm?"

"Right here."

Lance pressed his fingers to a spot on JC's left side and slowly drew them down till he could rest his hand on JC's hip. Lance stared down at his hand, and JC's breath caught at the look on his face.

"I guess," Lance said. "I'm confused. I was starting to think that maybe, maybe we had a boyfriend thing happening here?"

"Yeah," JC said, but he wasn't sure that he'd actually managed to make a sound. He swallowed. "Yeah. I, uh... I've been wondering about that, too."

"But then there's all this baby stuff and I'm not sure if you're here for me or just... just..."

"Hey." JC tapped a finger under Lance's chin. "Look at me."

When Lance looked up, JC told him, "I am totally here for you. I don't know if it's... boyfriends, but I am all about you."

Lance quirked his lips. "Me and alien babies."

"I'm sorry about the baby. It's really bad timing, and I didn't plan it, but I have to take it seriously. And um... are we in a hurry? 'Cause like, you and me, man, once this baby is gone. I'll be all yours and we can figure the rest out?"

"Yeah?" Lance's voice dropped down into sexy and growly. "You'll be all mine?"

"One hundred percent."

*

Joey arrived, along with Kelly, Briahna and little Kloey, on Saturday morning.

"Hey, guys," Kelly said, going up on tiptoes to kiss Lance's cheek while Joey was unbuckling Kloey from her car seat. "It's good to see you. Me and the squirt will get out of your way tomorrow so you can do boy things."

"Mom." Briahna drew the word out so it was about five syllables long. "I'm nine. I am not a squirt."

"Heh," Kelly said. She put her hand on JC's shoulder, and he bent so she could kiss him too. "I'm short--such is fate--and that means I have to relish every last minute while you're still shorter than me, Squirt."

"Hmph!" Briahna flounced away.

"You sure she isn't a teenager?" Lance asked.

"Nah," Joey said, coming up to them. "Take this, will ya?"

He held the baby out to Lance, and Lance happily took her-- "Hey, precious, come here." --even though it was quickly apparent that Joey had been handing her off because she needed a diaper change.

"B's all emo, because being a big sister is soooo grueling, don't you know? But she's not a teen yet."

"And thank God for that," Kelly said. "Here, Lance, I can take her."

"No, I can do it."

Kelly followed him with the diaper bag, and together, they got her cleaned up and down for a nap in the fourth bedroom, which Lance had converted into a nursery when Stacy was pregnant with Keegan. Somehow, he had never got around to switching it back to normal.

It was a gorgeous day, clear and sunny, but not overwhelmingly hot. Lunch was a casual affair served on the patio overlooking the pool. Everyone wore swim trunks or bikinis, though Joey and Chris both wore T-shirts as well.

"It's not that we're fat," Joey said.

"Uh-huh." Chris poked at the salad with a pair of serving tongs, and then chose a second sandwich instead. "It's just that some of us are manly men and we don't like getting crumbs in our chest hair."

"Thanks for that image," Lance said.

After lunch, Joey, Briahna and Chris ran around and took turns terrorizing Dingo and Foster, Lance's dogs, with a pair of remote-controlled race cars. Kelly helped Lance bring out a tall pitcher of lemonade and a bucket of ice. Then they joined JC who was relaxing in the shade on baby-monitor duty.

"How are you doing?" Kelly asked JC. "You look great."

Lance checked him out discreetly. He did look great, especially in those tiny, navy-blue swim shorts. His hair was a touch on the floppy side again, he smiled easily these days, and he was as trim as ever.

"Thanks," JC said. "I feel great. I guess I'm lucky, no morning sickness or anything."

"How far along are you?"

"This is the tenth week."

"Wow," Kelly said, and looked him over more closely. "You're so slim. I would have thought that you'd start showing early, because your baby doesn't have any fat to hide behind."

JC frowned and slid his hand down across his abdomen. "I've gained two pounds. Is that-- Do you think that's not enough? The books--"

"Oh, the books," Kelly said. "The books can be misleading even with normal babies. And, who knows, maybe your aliens are tiny little powerhouses like me."

JC's eyes squinched up as he smiled at her. "That would be awesome, Kel."

"They could be small-statured," Lance said, "or, well... this is something I've been wondering about. You keep talking like your pregnancy is going to be the standard nine months."

"Well, yeah," JC said.

"But different species have different gestation periods. Maybe you're not showing yet because the baby is developing more slowly than you expect."

Or, of course, he wasn't showing because there was no baby. Lance spent so much time with JC that he was picking up the habit of talking like the baby was real, and that was dangerous. Once you started talking like it was real, there was only a small slip down into forgetting that it wasn't real.

"But I'm human," JC said. "I'm going to have a nine-month pregnancy. That's what humans do."

"It doesn't work that way," Lance said. "Not if the baby needs more time."

"It's like toasters," Kelly said.

"What?" Lance and JC said in unison.

"You know the expression. JC has 'a bun in the oven.' And when you're baking, you heat up the oven, stick the dough inside, and wait. The buns aren't going to be done until they're done. You can have an idea of about how long it should take, but then you check, and nope, not quite. The buns have their own schedule."

"I don't think we can open JC up to check on his bun," Lance said.

"And you're definitely not going to stick a toothpick in me to see if it's ready!"

"It's a metaphor," Kelly said. "It doesn't have to be perfect. Now, what JC was talking about, that's more like making toast than baking."

"You stick the bread in, the toaster pops it out after a set amount of time, and it's done?" Lance said.

"Exactly!"

JC looked down at his belly. "Toast," he said, poking it. "Toast. I don't want to be pregnant for more than nine months."

"Welcome to motherhood," Kelly said. "One of the first lessons is 'Things take as long as they take.'"

Lance smiled. "In other words, embrace serenity, JC."

JC flipped him off.

*

Later, Lance was sunning himself in a lounge chair and dozing a bit. The sounds of Joey and his family playing in the pool were making him nostalgic. He remembered splashing in a pool with Stacy when they were young. Yeah. Some of his earliest memories were like that: looking down at his toes covered in sparkling water, Stacy singing, someone holding his hand, and his dad laughing out, "Don't forget you don't have gills anymore!" Good times.

He had almost completely drifted off when JC squawked, "'Mangina'?! Oh my god, Chris, I do not have a vagina! I have a pouch."

"A-ha!" Chris shouted. "Jaffa, kree!"

That was enough to get Lance awake, vertical, and staring. Chris pounced on JC and started tickling him, or maybe just prodding his belly with great enthusiasm.

"You... lunatic!" JC gasped. "Get off of me!"

"Where is it? Where is it?" Chris said.

"Stop it! Stop--"

Over the years, Lance had observed countless tickle attacks upon JC's person. He'd even participated in his fair share, but this time, maybe because JC was practically naked and, therefore, vulnerable, a rush of emotion hit him and he had to fight hard against his impulse to tear Chris away from JC.

"Chris!" he ordered. "Leave off!"

"But--!"

"Tickling a pregnant man is a good way to get pissed on."

"Oh," Chris said, immediately backing off. "Good point. Sorry 'C, I love you and all, but it's a little too early in our courtship for golden showers."

Lance shot a look over to the pool. Good. He was glad that Briahna was far, far away from them. Joey might not kill them if Bri piped up at dinner with "What's a golden shower?" but Kelly would.

"Jesus," JC said. "That was like my last really bad date. What's your problem?"

"You said you had a pouch, so. You know. Pouch? Jaffa? Goa'uld symbiotes? _Stargate: SG-1_?"

JC smoothed down his shorts, then ran his hand through his hair. "I am not a Jaffa."

"Well, yeah," Chris said. "They have big cuts on their stomachs. But I had to check."

"I am not-- Hmph." JC stood up and put his hands on his hips, dignity personified. "The Jaffa are slaves. The symbiotes they carry are parasites, the spawn of their oppressors. There is no love lost there. I am not like that. I am a pouch mother."

 _Pouch mother_?

Lance didn't hear Chris' response, because his mind had seized up at the phrase. JC was a pouch mother? No. It had to be a coincidence.

*

At first, Lance thought the surprise party wouldn't be much of a surprise, since JC damn well knew that Chris and Joey were there. He had to suspect something. But Chris took JC out to Starbucks in the morning-- "Come on, you can still get decaf, can't you?" --and Kelly turned into a whirlwind, accepting deliveries, bossing Joey and Lance around, and pulling a party out of nowhere.

In less than two hours, the patio was covered in twinkling green lights and star-shaped Mylar balloons. There were pitchers of fruity, virgin drinks. There were platters of tiny star-shaped sandwiches and little cakes done up like UFOs. A real, arcade version of Space Invaders had been hauled in, too, and Lance really hoped that he could keep it.

Joey was given custody of a large box covered in silver paper. The sign on it read _Alien Baby Party Box - DO NOT TOUCH!_ Lance was curious, but he left it the hell alone; Kelly was a force to be reckoned with. Then, Kelly kissed them both, told them to have a good time, and swept out with Briahna in tow. Kloey was left to fend for herself with the boys, which was either extremely brave on Kelly's part or simple mathematics. With five babysitters, she would be fine.

"I love your wife," Lance said.

"Man, I love her, too, but she wears me out." Joey then smiled, a big dirty grin, and Lance didn't ask for details.

Justin arrived moments after Chris and JC returned, and it was perfect. Lance watched JC flitting around, hugging everyone, and generally squeaking in delight, and he was embarrassed--not by JC, but of how proud he felt at that moment for his small part in making it happen.

Early on, Chris tied a balloon to the handle of one of the pitchers and told JC to drink from that one because he was spiking the rest. That was a good idea, because the silver Party Box turned out to be full of activities which were greatly improved with alcohol.

There were party favors: _Star Wars_ and _Star Trek_ action figures, alien-themed temporary tattoos, and packets of glow-in-the-dark condoms. Each condom packet came with a little label stating _In case of alien abduction, open package and apply._

Then there were games. First, they were instructed to play Alien-Baby-Name Boggle. Justin shook all of the lettered dice up and dumped them on the table.

"How is this supposed to work? The only name I see is 'Boo.'"

"That's not a name," Joey said.

"It's a great name," Chris said. He was bouncing Kloey on his knee. "I love you, Boo."

"It's an awful name," Lance said. "Boo Chasez?"

"Oh," Justin said. "Never mind."

There was Pin the Baby Bump on JC, which involved a poster print of JC in snakeskin pants and stickers with ridiculous drawings of little green aliens in the fetal position. "Me and B drew those," Joey said proudly.

And, at the bottom of the Party Box, there were several boxes of home pregnancy tests and a note that they should all be tested.

"Joey," Chris said. "Man, I don't know about your wife."

"What? It's a great idea."

"It doesn't bother you at all that your wife was busy thinking, 'Hmm, how can I get all of *NSYNC to whip out their dicks?'"

JC laughed. "I love Kelly."

Justin stared at the kits. "We don't, we don't really have to do this, do we?"

Chris nudged him. "Buck up, kiddo. All you have to do is pee in a cup."

"No one is peeing in any of my cups," Lance said. He wasn't nearly drunk enough for that to seem like a good idea.

Joey had the instructions out and was looking them over. "It's okay, all you have to do is hold it in your urine stream for five seconds."

"'In my urine stream'?" Justin said. "I don't want to--"

Chris started humming and Joey joined in with "Pee me a river."

"Oh my god," Justin said. "What is wrong with all of you? And what the hell, Lance? Every time I'm over here it's like the All Urine, All the Time Station."

"Oh," Joey said. "And you have to keep the stick pointed down."

"I don't know about anyone else," Chris said, "but I always pee with my stick pointing down."

They had to tear the foil wrapper from one of the test sticks to show Justin that they had little caps which could be taken off and replaced without him having to touch anything scary-- "I'm not scared of it! I just like things to be sanitary." --but eventually, they all took a turn in the bathroom. It helped that they'd all been drinking enough to need a pit-stop anyway.

Lance was waiting to go last, when JC steered him into the bathroom.

"JC, what?"

"I'll hold your test for you."

What?

"This, uh, isn't your usual kink."

"Oh, not to be kinky. I'm really not into that. I mean... I get it. I get why it's hot. But you know--" His face scrunched up. "--it smells."

Lance unzipped. He wasn't going to let this weird him out. "So, why are we doing this?"

"So we can tell Kelly that we did."

"Oh... well, I guess that's as good a reason as any. Should I worry that you're trying to fulfill all of Kelly's bizarre fantasies?"

"Nah, man. Not all of them. Just this one, to thank her."

"Some people just send cards."

"Where's the fun in that?"

After JC had taken his turn and carefully washed his hands, he kissed Lance. "Can't do this around the others, but I've been wanting to for hours. Thank you, man. Thanks for this."

"We could do it around the others," Lance said, and JC kissed him again with greater enthusiasm.

"I think... not in front of Justin. Not today. Soon, though, man. Soon."

When they got back to the others, Chris sighed dramatically. "It's about time, you almost missed our big news."

"I'm not pregnant!" Justin said.

"Neither am I," Joey said.

"Aww," JC said. "We could've had triplets."

"And this will come as a shocker," Chris said, "but I'm not pregnant either."

Lance looked at his test stick. The digital screen was blank. "What do yours look like?"

Justin pointed to the counter where the three tests were lined up on a paper towel. Each screen read "Not Pregnant."

"Huh."

Justin asked, "What does yours say, 'C?"

"Um... I don't know. I think it wants me to read a book?"

"What?"

"It's got a little book and an arrow."

Chris grabbed JC's test. "Huh. I think that means 'You're doing it wrong, forget sex and stick to reading porn.'"

Joey consulted the instruction sheet. "It means you did something wrong. 'Try again with a new test, taking care to follow the instructions.'"

"Wow," Justin said. "You messed up peeing on a stick?"

"Maybe it doesn't like alien pregnancy hormones," JC said.

"What about you, Lance?" Joey asked.

"Mine's blank."

"What?"

Lance shrugged. "It's just blank."

"That means it was a faulty test or something, I think. They have an 800 number. We can call them."

"Oh yeah," Chris said. "Let's! Who wants to explain to the operator how we want a refund because their pregnancy test isn't reliable when used by men?"

JC looked down at his test again, before dropping it into the trash. "It's too bad," he said. "It would have been neat if it had said I was pregnant."

JC had his back to the others, so he didn't see how Justin and Joey nodded wistfully in agreement.

*

Late that night, after Justin had left and the others had gone to bed, Chris, Joey, Kloey and Lance piled onto the couch to drink whiskey and watch _V_. Well, three of them were drinking whiskey. Kloey's bottle wasn't as exciting, though Lance was enjoying the chance to feed her.

She was such a warm, sweet weight against his chest and she'd changed so much since his last Orlando visit. Holding her made him feel sort of... homesick, which was stupid. Orlando wasn't his home. And you couldn't exactly be homesick for someone else's life. He curved his hand around the back of her head, flattening wispy little curls of baby-fine hair, and tried to pay attention to the movie.

In JC's absence, Lance had no problem with _V_. He always got a kick from the implausibility of its plot and the inaccuracy of its science. Chris fast-forwarded through chunks of it, "because the humans are boring." Lance would have complained, but Chris' edits were actually an improvement upon the original.

After the alien woman had eaten her first rat, Joey propped his feet up on the coffee table and settled a little deeper into the couch. "I've been thinking."

"Uh oh," Chris said.

"I know JC's crazy, but... but what if he's not? Lance, you could keep the baby. You want kids, he's got one."

"What he's got is an imaginary alien baby."

"I'd take a good look at it first before you decide to keep it. I mean, if it looks like a facehugger, oh hell no. But if it's a 'Greetings, Earthling, we come in peace' sort of baby--"

"Oh my god!" Chris said. "Are you even watching this movie? Have you learned nothing? 'We come in peace' aliens are the worst kind! They're sneaky about being evil instead of just getting on with attacking us."

"There's peaceful aliens," Joey said. "There's E.T. and the Starman. They were friendly."

"The Starman?" Lance asked.

"Yeah, from that old Jeff Bridges' movie that Kelly likes--oh! And there was David Bowie in that alien movie with all the weird sex scenes. He wasn't trying to hurt anyone."

"Those were solitary aliens," Chris said. "Of course, they were peaceful. They didn't have backup."

"That's kind of harsh," Lance said. "There could be plenty of non-aggressive reasons for aliens to come here."

"Oh, fine," Chris said. "Maybe there are. Maybe JC's aliens really did come in peace, but then what does Joey want you to do? Steal their baby. I'm sure that wouldn't spark off an intergalactic incident or anything."

"He won't be stealing it. He'll be Child Protective Services-ing it. Anyone who'd abandon their child to C's tender mercies..."

"That's not fair," Lance said. "JC is seriously trying to do what's best for that baby. You couldn't ask for a better m-- surrogate. Especially considering that no one's been abandoned into JC's care. If anything... Well. If that baby were real, it would be a child of rape. Plain and simple."

"Oh," Joey and Chris said, and they both looked down into their drinks.

"Yeah," Lance said. "'Oh.' No one's thought of that, have they?"

"Then why are you being so cool about it?" Joey said.

"Because it makes JC happy." Lance snuggled Kloey closer. "Because it makes him happy, and it can't be real."


	3. So you've been trapped on that world of yours

Sometimes JC really wasn't impressed with himself, like when his friends threw him a wonderful party and afterward, all he could do was mope around the house. That was no way to thank them. And Lance was beginning to hover, which could only mean that JC had him extra-worried. He didn't mean to. It was just... he couldn't get his pregnancy test result out of his head, that and Kelly's surprise that he wasn't showing yet. If he could just have one sign of pregnancy that wasn't all in his head... Women at least got to miss their periods.

There had been one spare test leftover from the party. JC had pocketed it when he helped Lance clean up the next day. He went online and found the instructions and read them very carefully, before printing them out and reading them again. Then he followed them to the letter and... what the hell? How could he possibly mess up peeing on a stick twice? It couldn't be him; his alien pregnancy hormones had to be at fault.

He decided to meditate. He flipped through his iPod to one of his more mind-expanding playlists and settled into half-lotus. He focused inside, on the electric thrum that hadn't ever faded completely away. It had been really distracting at first, back when he hadn't known what was happening to him, but over time, his perception of it had lessened even though he suspected that the physical sensation itself hadn't. The mind was an amazing thing, the way it could adapt to protect itself.

As soon as he closed his eyes, he felt the echoes of it like a tingle throughout his body. But once he concentrated and focused, it wasn't just a pinpoint of energy anymore. It was big now, almost the size of a ping-pong ball--if the ball had been crushed a bit--and bristling with energy. Was that his-- was that the baby?

He wished there was some way to capture that buzz on paper or video or something. He wanted something that he could hold, that he could show to the guys so they could stop worrying about his sanity. But maybe that was greedy. This opportunity was already so much more than he had ever hoped to receive. He couldn't just keep asking for more. He--

Ah, fuck. He yanked off his headphones. Never mind what the others thought, he was driving himself crazy. He needed to get out and do something real. He could... uh... go to the aquarium again and see how his favorite octopuses--the ones that looked like miniature versions of the Thermians from _Galaxy Quest_ \--were doing.

He grabbed his sunglasses and his keys, and, oh, he'd better grab a bottle of water, too. Going to the aquarium always made him thirsty. Water, water everywhere and not a drop to--

"'C," Lance said. "Hey, JC." He had his phone in one hand and a pen in the other. "I'll call you back in a minute," he said and slid the phone shut. "Glad I saw you, 'C. I've been thinking, I've got those video conferences next week and _Dance Crew_ is gearing up soon, right?"

"Yeah, it starts the week of my birthday."

"Great! Let's go to New York."

"I kind of have to be here for _Dance Crew_?"

"No, we'll go now. We'll catch some shows, do the nightlife. I'll attend my meetings in person. You can shop."

"I don't know. I'm not really--"

"Aren't you ready for a change of scenery? I know I am. And pretty soon, we'll both be so busy, who knows when we'll get another chance. And it's New York, the fashion capital. You can freshen up your look, give the MTV viewers something to really look at, and... maybe you'll find a few things suitable for maternity wear."

"Oh," JC said. Maternity clothes! Did Lance finally believe him?

"You've been focusing so much on the baby, I want you to have some time that's about you."

That was so thoughtful. Lance was always so thoughtful.

"How is it that no one's snatched you up already?"

Lance laughed. "Maybe I want to be the one doing the snatching. Ever think of that? Besides, I've kind of got my eye on someone, only he got knocked up before I could--"

"Oh, but. Lance. I know we're talking about, you know, _boyfriends_. But. I thought that was kind of-- I mean, you don't really want a boyfriend, you want a husband and kids and a white picket fence and--"

"At this point, I want a boyfriend. Ideally, I want you because what's the point of a boyfriend if you don't want to do boyfriendy things with him? I do those things with you, I want to keep doing those things with you. I can figure the rest out later. You said we weren't in a hurry."

"But I'm not that guy," JC said. "I'm not. I can't raise kids. I can't be all... suburban."

"I think you'd be surprised."

"I just know that I'm not--"

"What are you--? I can't, I can't believe you. You're a creative, free-thinker. Why aren't you more... open to this? You're more open to the possibility of aliens than you are to even considering--"

"Aliens don't come with mortgages and minivans."

"Neither do millionaire pop stars! Do you think Joey's 'suburban'? He's not, he's the furthest thing from--"

"Joey's still got a minivan."

"No, he doesn't."

"Yeah, he does. The Escalade. SUVs are just minivans that have been butched up to fool the general public."

"Oh my god," Lance said.

"You know it's true."

"I-- No, I don't want to argue with you about the automotive industry's hidden agendas. All I was asking was, 'Hey, New York?' I just want to go there and have fun with you. Three weeks, just a little vacation. That's all, I promise, if you get out your secret decoder ring, you won't find out that I'm really saying 'Let's go to Connecticut and get married!'"

"Chris took my decoder ring," JC said. "I don't have one anymore."

"Let's go to New York, and I'll buy you a new decoder ring, a better one."

"Really?"

"Well, no. You don't need a decoder ring. But I'll buy you a box of Cracker Jack, and if you're really nice, maybe I'll buy you a bracelet or something with chains."

"Leather and chains?"

"Maybe."

"Well..." JC said. "I haven't seen your apartment since you redecorated."

*

Lance was right about New York. That wasn't surprising, because Lance was almost always right. It was, JC thought, one of Lance's more comforting qualities, along with his soothing voice and calm determination. It also helped that Lance didn't say, "I told you so," anywhere near as often as he had to be thinking it.

At first, JC had worried that he was just putting on a happy face for Lance and going through the motions, but he quickly fell into the spirit of the trip.

They didn't go much for their usual night-life pursuits--it didn't have the same appeal when neither of them was particularly interested in picking up or finding a third for the night--but they had fun. They went to a Yankees game, more to experience the new stadium than to watch the game, but they totally lucked out because the Red Sox were in town and nothing fueled the fans like a good rivalry. And it was a great game, tied in the second inning and then it was just a battle of truly excellent pitching, going into extended innings until a run in the eleventh and a Yankees' victory.

They went to the Museum of Modern Art. They caught several avant-garde Off-Broadway shows and had dinner every night at one hotspot after another. And for lunch each day, when Lance wasn't around to choose the venue, JC tried the palak paneer at a bunch of different holes-in-wall. He was seriously craving green food.

Lance had been right about the shopping, too. Everything had more attitude in New York, even collections that he'd already seen in Beverly Hills. And that was why, two weeks into their visit, JC was trying on a pair of pants at Dolce & Gabbana. He wasn't trying them on for size, he knew his size perfectly; he had the hips of the ideal D&G Man. He just wanted to see if they were as fierce on _him_ as they were on the hanger.

They weren't fierce on him; he couldn't fasten them.

He couldn't fasten his pants! Oh my god, how awesome was that? He laughed and spun in a circle, catching sight of many more JCs spinning alongside him in the mirror-paneled fitting room. He was so buying these pants. He couldn't wear them, but he wanted them as a memento. It was the first time in his life that he had ever been excited at the prospect of being fat.

He had a baby bump. A teeny, tiny baby bump.

*

Look-at-My-Belly! Night would long live in Lance's memory as one of the freakiest nights of his life. And, as he tried to explain to Joey the next day, that was really saying something. Having known Chris, JC, and Justin for over a decade, he had seen far more than his fair share of freaky.

Joey didn't quite get it.

"Yeah," he said. "Both times right when Kelly first started showing? Scared me shitless. It's like, okay, I knew she was pregnant, she'd told me she was, but then 'Blam!' It's suddenly a lot more real. Oh shit, can I really be a daddy? Oh shit, we're doing this again? What the hell was I thinking?"

"It's not freaky like that."

"But now you know it's real."

"We're on vacation," Lance said. "People overeat all the time on vacation."

"Aww, man. Don't be like that. It's exciting. Me and B are going to watch _E.T._ in JC's honor."

Lance sighed and asked about the girls.

Joey was the wrong person to try to explain it to, how weird he felt and how shallow. Because, yeah, he loved JC, but he had also loved his nice, flat belly. He had loved it a lot. He needed another gay man that he could talk about it with, or maybe Justin... except Justin didn't know about Lance's long-standing love affair with JC's taut abs and he wouldn't appreciate finding out about it like that.

*

Later that week, Lance returned to the apartment to find JC lying on the living room floor. Or, more exactly, he found him lying mostly on the floor. JC's back was flat against the carpet, his butt was scootched up so it was almost touching the couch, his knees were bent, and his bare feet were resting on the couch. He was dangling a long key chain, or possibly half of a broken necklace, over his belly.

"'C, what the--? I swear, if you tell me this is the way aliens sit on couches..."

"Hey, baby." JC started to sit up, and then seemed to realize that he couldn't until he lowered his legs. He twisted uselessly for a moment, like a puppet on tangled strings, until he laughed at himself and simply dropped back into the position that Lance had found him in.

"When you say that," Lance asked, "are you talking to me? Or to the imaginary baby?"

"I'm talking to you, of course. Did you have a good day? I went to a psychic fair, and it's not an imaginary baby, and I know we've been calling it 'the baby' but that isn't-- I don't think that's right. I think we should call it 'the young.'"

The whole room lurched and Lance had to grab the back of the couch for balance.

"'The young,'" Lance said. It was not a question.

How did JC keep doing that? First, it was 'pouch mother' and now... He needed to sit down.

"Careful! Don't crush my pyramid!"

Lance shoved aside JC's legs, and several pamphlets and cheaply-bound books, and a folded, iridescent cardboard pyramid and sank into the couch. His knees felt like jelly.

JC hummed and stuck his feet in Lance's lap.

"Rub my feet? All the pregnancy books rave about it."

Lance nodded without really thinking and cupped his fingers around the back of a heel. Then he stared. The tops of JC's feet were covered in spirals of ink. He traced one of the lines that curled vine-like around JC's ankle bone.

"Have you been drawing on yourself?"

"Aren't they beautiful?" JC waved his hands, and there were brown lines all over the backs of his hands, too.

"They're... nice," Lance said. "But I'm wondering if we need to start hiding our pens from you."

"They're henna tattoos. I got them at the fair."

The psychic fair. Right.

"You went to see a psychic? About your ba-- about your aliens? Are you crazy? We'll be reading about it in the _Enquirer_ for months!"

"I'm not stupid. I didn't get a reading. I just soaked up the energy in the room, you know. Felt the vibes, picked up some books, chatted with the vendors. It was awesome."

"But why? Why would you even--? It's so..."

"Crazy?"

"Yeah. That, too. But..."

It didn't really seem like JC's scene. The lunacy, yeah. He'd eat that up. But...

Lance could picture it: A low-end hotel with an implausible color scheme and that "fancy" patterned carpeting that he'd thought was classy until he'd learned better. A room filled with lots of fat women and ladies with seriously long hair--hair so long it was probably a safety hazard--and lots of cat ladies, too, and one strange skinny guy in the corner who watched everyone without actually looking at anyone. Lance did, after all, know a thing or two about pet psychics.

"I know you don't believe me," JC said. "But I've been getting all these flashes lately, and I just know things. About the ship and how the aliens don't mean me any harm, and that I'm a pouch mother and this--" JC patted his belly, and the odd key chain thing that had been resting there slithered down to the floor. "--this is the young."

This was... Hearing those terms made JC's delusions a little too real. Lance didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to face the big question. _Don't,_ he told himself. _Don't even think it. You don't see it right now, but there is another explanation._

He pressed his thumb against the ball of JC's right foot, ready to give the foot massage of a lifetime, if it would help him think clearly.

JC sighed happily and wiggled his toes.

"So I was thinking, maybe I know this stuff because the aliens are psychic. Like maybe they psychically implanted this knowledge in my brain while I was on-board. Or they're somewhere close, like beyond my reach, but still close and they're trying to tell me everything I need to know, even though we can't meet face-to-face."

"Maybe the aliens don't have faces," Lance said. "Maybe they're gelatinous blobs."

JC nodded. "That's a really good point, they could be amorphous blobs. But they're not."

"You said that you didn't see the aliens, so..."

"Blobs wouldn't need a pouch mother, Lance. Blobs would just... do that thing, that uh..."

"What thing?"

"That... I know there's a word for it. That asexual blob thing. You know, how they make little clone blobbies of themselves."

Lance almost choked as he snorted and started to laugh at the same time.

"Like... Jell-O Jigglers?" he managed to squeak out. Once he was breathing normally again, he said, "I think you mean binary fission."

"Yeah, that's it! So. Jellies don't need pouches. I'm pretty sure, given how they picked me instead of like a whale or a sea horse or a... I don't know. They could have picked anything. So, they must, in their own special alien way, be at least vaguely our size and mammal-like."

That still seemed like an awful lot to assume, even if... Well. It was a lot to assume even if one was privy to more information than JC was.

"And I was thinking, if they're psychic, maybe the young is psychic, too. Or... what if the young could develop psychic talents but I'm not exposing it to enough of the right sort of vibrations? Am I stunting it? How can I help it grow? And what if we could communicate? I'd like to be able to at least introduce myself. 'Hey, little alien dude, I'm JC. I know it's a little scary and confusing being in such a strange pouch, but it's okay, because I'm here for you and I'll keep you safe until your family can come for you.'"

"Oh." Lance blinked and knuckled away an itch at the corner of his eye. He wasn't crying. "That's... oh."

"So when I saw the flier for the fair, I knew I had to go and learn and pick up some things to help me blossom into my full psychic potential."

Lance glanced at the pile of books and things. "I don't-- How's a cardboard pyramid going to help you with that?"

"Eh. I just got that because it was pretty, but like... look!" JC waved his hands again. "I got these symbols drawn on me. This is, uh, 'mental clarity' which is vital for open communication, psychic or otherwise, and this is 'protection for the family'--" That was JC's left hand, then his right. "Left foot is 'luck' and, uh, that one is the universal symbol of friendship. It increases the chance of alien contact."

Lance stared down at the lines that he'd traced on C's foot. "That... I'm sorry. What?"

"That's what the guy at the next stand said. It was the henna girl and then this paranormal society guy with all these books on ghosts and UFOs and psychic teens. I'm not sure why there was so much for teens, I didn't see any teens there, but I bought a book for Briahna and he suggested the symbol and like, I didn't want to tell him that I'd already had contact. That would be bragging and that's not what this is about, but I thought it was a good idea, since I am trying to establish a mental rapport with the young, and--"

Lance shook his head. "Oh, JC."

"What?"

"I, um... look. You're totally insane. You do know that, right?"

"Dude. I know it seems that way, but time and junior will eventually prove my sanity."

"Sure, but... this symbol. Would you know what it was if you hadn't been told?"

JC chewed at his lip and his eyes dimmed.

"Well... No... I guess not."

"And I certainly didn't know what it was. If it were really the universal symbol of friendship, shouldn't it be, I don't know, more universal?"

His eyes clear again, JC smiled serenely. "That symbol got me a foot massage. That's friendly enough, if you ask me."

*

Maybe Lance talked in his sleep. That was scary to contemplate because it could seriously compromise their security, but maybe... maybe Lance only did it when he was with someone he trusted. He could at least hope that, right?

But how could he find out? He could ask JC, but JC obviously didn't know, not if he was picking things up from Lance and mistaking them for psychic communications. He could set a recorder in their bedroom, but Lance wouldn't talk in his sleep now that he'd realized the danger and would be subconsciously on-guard against it. Reichen would have said something if he knew. He had liked to-- "I'm just watching out for you, babe." --point out all of Lance's little flaws and weaknesses. That really only left Joey.

"Hey," Joey said. "I was just thinking about you. How are JC and the bump?"

"They're fine. How are you and your gut?"

"Ha." There was a bit of an echo, like Joey was on speaker phone. "You have to do better that that, man, 'cause me and my gut are doing fine. We're good, the girls are good, and Kelly's got this new pair of panties--"

"Whoa," Lance said. "Stop right there."

Joey laughed. "That stops you dead every time, doesn't it? Like kryptonite to Superman."

"Have you been drinking?"

"No, I've got Kloey for the day. I'm behaving. What's up?"

"Do I talk in my sleep?"

"Man, it's a good thing my girl here's pre-verbal. She'd so get the wrong impression of our friendship otherwise. 'Daddy, what did you and Uncle Lance do all of those years on the bus together?'"

"Joey--"

"Speaking of which, don't you have a boyfriend you could ask? I seem to remember him. Skinny dude. Spent a lot of time on buses, too."

"I can't ask him, you know how he sleeps. When would he ever be awake to hear me talking?"

"Oh, huh. Good point. Hear that, Klo-klo? Your Uncle Lance is smart."

"I thought Kelly didn't want you calling her that."

"It's a cute name and it's musical--Klo, re, mi, fa, so--so she'll come around to it. And, no, I never heard you talk in your sleep. Except that one time, when you said, 'Orange. It goes both ways,' but we were both really out of it, and I can't swear that I wasn't dreaming."

"Okay. Thanks, that's good to know."

"But since you're asking... There was this thing you sometimes did, but only when we'd had like a week from hell, you know?"

"What-- What did I do?"

"Like when you were really, really tired. Dead tired. You used to-- You sometimes moaned. It weirded me out at first, and then I thought maybe it was sex dreams, and then I realized that you were just humming in your sleep, except not quite."

"I hummed? Like... I thought we were still in the middle of a show?"

"No, more like-- I don't know. Maybe whale song?"

Lance wasn't sure what to make of that. He did, apparently, talk in his sleep sometimes, but not in any language that JC would even recognize _as_ a language. So how was he picking up things like "pouch mother"? Unless... maybe Lance had changed sleep-languages over the years. He needed to be more careful.

"I never told you," Joey said, "'cause I knew if I did, you'd be all on my case again. 'Blah, blah, blah. Joey, you snore. Joey--'"

"You fart in your sleep."

"Oh man, I know. I know. You and Kel, you've suffered a lot for your love of me."

"Yeah," Lance said. "We can't help it. We're hopeless romantics."

*

When JC purchased his pendulum, he bought one for Justin as well. He hadn't really meant to. He hadn't even meant to get his own, but it had sort of... Well, "chosen him" was what the crystal lady had said.

He'd seen some pretty pink crystals hanging from fancy chains and just had to reach for them to take a closer look. But somehow, what ended up in his hand was a smoky gray crystal on a chain of alternating links and faceted jet beads. It was pretty sharp-looking, actually. A good length of it would make a great belt, especially for his darkest charcoal-gray pants, the ones with the subtle luster and the extra-skinny legs. But even so, he'd tried to put it down again and get one of the pinks.

That's when the vendor had intervened and she'd been really cool, telling him all about the pendulums and how to use them and how the gray had obviously chosen him because he vibrated at its frequency. He didn't believe her right away. He thought the gray was more expensive and she was trying to make the best sale, but then she let him try the others and sure enough, the only one that would swing for him was the gray. And who was he to fight an obvious destiny like that?

The one he'd chosen for Justin had a crystal as clear as glass and a chain of doubled silver links. He picked it because the piece that you held was blue enamel decorated with a white Celtic knot. The pattern made him think of Justin's hair back in the days of his crazy lamb locks, and Justin would like it.

He brought it over to Justin's the Saturday after they got back to LA, which was also the day before his birthday. He told J about it and demonstrated how to use it, and then J tried. It swung for him right away.

Justin laughed, delighted, and started asking it, "Hey, is JC pregnant or does he just want an excuse to get fat?"

"I'm not fat, and you can't ask it either/or questions. They have to be yes/no."

Justin made a face at him, crossing his eyes and looking so retarded, it was hard to believe that anyone thought him sexy, let alone that millions of girls did.

"Blah, blah, blah," Justin said. "This is between me and Mr. Swingy here."

If Justin was giving it a silly name, then he definitely liked it. JC was glad.

"Hey, Mr. Swingy, is JC pregnant?"

It revolved slowly in little circles.

"See?" JC said. "That's a yes."

"I don't know. It doesn't seem very sure about it. Maybe you're only a little bit pregnant."

"Maybe you're not very good at it yet, and your pendulum doesn't like--"

"Hey, Mr. Swingy, is JC going to get fat? Like hugely fat? I bet he is."

The pendulum swung from side to side, an emphatic 'no.'

"Aww," Justin told it. "You're no fun anymore." He dropped it into his pocket. "You want a smoothie, 'C? Milk is good for growing strong alien bones, and I just got one of those Magic Bullet systems."

"Ooo, really?" JC loved that infomercial. It was so healthy and high-speed and excited. "Is it as cool as it is on TV?"

"Dude, you have no idea! I feel like I'm living in the kitchen of the future every time I use it. Come on."

They made ba-mango strawberry smoothies, because anything that let you say 'ba-mango' half a dozen times had to be good. Justin put protein powder in his, but after squinting at the can's label for a bit, decided not to use it for JC's. "Just to be safe," he explained. "You want some extra banana instead? Potassium's always good."

"Ba-ba-mango? Sure!"

They took their ba-mango masterpieces out towards the pool. JC sat at the edge and dangled his feet in the water, and after Justin had peered around and done a visual check of all the bushes, he joined him.

"Hey," he said quietly. "I can't believe you went to see Madame Cleo in New York."

"I didn't, and is Madame Cleo even around anymore?"

"But psychics... Is it safe? Letting them know about the alien-ay bay-bay?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, I didn't tell anyone about the young. It's a secret."

"But you told us."

"Because we're us. I trust us."

"Yeah?" Justin drew figure eights in the water with his feet. After a moment, he said, "I kind of thought... maybe... You're seeing a lot of Lance these days."

"Oh, Justin."

"Lance doesn't trust me."

"Lance has his own issues. I trust you. I trust all of us... at least with the important stuff."

"Yeah? So like, can I-- I want to be the baby's godfather. Can I? It would be so cool. Me and little Q*bert Chasez."

Oh man.

"I would. I'd ask you in a heartbeat, but it's not-- It's not staying. It's an alien. It needs to be among alienkind."

"That's too bad." Justin leaned against him. "That's really-- It doesn't seem fair."

JC pet his hair and they said nothing for a long time.

Finally, Justin said, "Why, 'C? Why would they do it? I don't get that. If they're going to give you a baby, they should _give_ you a baby. Taking it away again is just mean."

"I don't know. I get the sense that they're... in trouble. There's something wrong, maybe something wrong with them, and they can't carry the young. And it's not mean, not really. I don't want a baby."

"But you could give it to me! I want a baby. I'd be really--"

"Oh, J, honey... I'm sorry, but if I could give the young away--which I can't, it's not mine to give--I would offer it to Lance first."

"But--!"

"I bet you'd be a great father. You've got a sense of humor, and your kids wouldn't want for anything, I know. But, um--" God, this was awkward. Was this how the women on _Maury_ felt during those baby-daddy shows? "--you'll have plenty of chances to make babies with your special someone someday. And like... I'm maybe not his special someone, but I'm... kind of in love with Lance, and his baby options are a lot more limited, so if it--"

"You're in love with Lance?"

JC kicked his feet in the water. _Run away_ , his feet were saying. _Run away, you don't have to admit to this._ He didn't listen to his feet, not this time.

"Well, um. Yeah. I think so, and that's why, if it came down to it--"

Justin pushed away from him, and for a second, JC wanted to catch at him like he could keep J from getting angry if he could just hold onto him enough, and then he realized that Justin wasn't going anywhere. He was just staring at him like he was trying to figure something out.

"You think so?"

"I'm not really good at these things, you know. They're easier to sing about. But, yeah." JC nodded. "I think so."

"But you don't think you're his special someone?"

Why wasn't Justin getting freaked out about this?

"He's-- You know what he's like. He loves people hard, but sometimes they're really not the right people. Or, no, that makes him sound like a crazy stalker or something, doesn't it? He's not-- I'm sure he loves me, but I'm not exactly the guy he's been dreaming of."

"Oh god," Justin said. "You're going to be fucking stupid about this, aren't you?"

"What?"

"You know I've just started working on an album. You can't be fucking stupid about this. Last one, it was all, 'Oh my god, Justin, Lance is gay. We can't talk about your album right now, but how do you feel about Lance's sexual orientation?' And this one will be--"

"That's not--"

"This one will be all, 'Hi, Justin, we'd really like to hear your latest, but first, what's this we hear about JC and Lance and their forbidden love?' and man, you know I'll be supportive, you're my homey and I want you to be all happy in love, and I'd go through all of that again for you."

"Aww, Justin. That's so sw--"

"But, dude, the album after this one? You better not be stupid. Don't be pulling that shit where suddenly you're thinking that oh, Lance can't really love you because you're not perfect enough for him. Don't break up with him, because then it will be all 'Justin, Justin, tell us about JC. Tell us about Lance. Whose heart is more broken? Whose side are you on? Is it true that your latest video tells the story of their tragic love?' And I'm not going to put up with that."

"Oh my god," JC said. "It is not all about you, and I am not going to be stupid like that. We're not going to go public. I'm pregnant, it's only a matter of time before Lance or Eric or someone locks me away. This album, the only question you'll be getting is 'Hey, Justin, are the rumors true? Is JC dead?'"

"Hey, that shit worked for the Beatles. I think we should go with it."

*

Somehow, Lance wasn't surprised when he got home from a charity auction and saw Justin's car in the drive again.

"Hey," Justin said, and waved with the stereo's remote in his hand. "I saw you drive up. JC's taking a bath, don't let him dump you."

"What?"

"Okay, maybe I said that wrong. He doesn't want to dump you, but I'm saying it for like the future. I'll be mad if you let him get stupid and dump you."

"Right. 'Cause that would be my first concern if JC was breaking up with me, how you would feel about it."

"I'm just saying, the *NSYNC reunion tour will totally work if rumors are flying and the fans think that JC's been replaced by an android double. But it won't work so well if they think I've killed you and dumped your body in the Pacific."

How was it that every time Lance left his house, people got weirder in his absence? He needed to seriously consider never leaving again.

"Well," Lance said, "that sounds really... special."

"'Isn't that special?'" Justin grinned.

"Yes, indeed. I take it that JC told you then."

"That you've been rockin' bodies till the break of day? Nah. Chris told me."

"Great."

"Don't be pissed. He told me ages ago. He saw you once or something, and he wanted to give me a head's up, so I'd react better than I did before. Or maybe he just wanted to mess with me. He did go into an awful lot of detail about how hot y'all were, so..." Justin shrugged. "So, uh, congratulations. 'C says you're kind of serious."

He definitely had to stop leaving; this was too weird. Maybe Justin had been replaced by an android double.

"Thank you," Lance said. "I guess... Uh, you said 'C was taking a bath?"

"Yeah, man. You can join him if you want, just don't give me any details. Understand?"

Lance nodded and took a couple steps down the hallway, and that's when he heard it. He stumbled, and sort of fell against the wall.

What the hell was that? It sounded... It sounded almost like...

"Lance?"

It was wrong, like a parrot mimicking human speech, like five parrots attempting "I Thought She Knew," but--

"Lance? Is it your heart? Dude, come on."

\--it sounded an awful lot like the time he'd been to the main labs in the mother ship, with the sounds of the generators and the special cooling system and all the monitors and the computers' disembodied voices singing in their native tongue.

It couldn't... It couldn't be.

Something shook him.

"Jesus, Lance, are you okay? You can't be having a heart attack or--"

"What is that?" Lance said.

"What is what? Jesus, you're as white as a sheet. Let me-- Let's-- You should be putting your head between your knees or something."

"What's that sound?"

"Probably the pounding of my heart. Shit, you scared--"

"No. No. What is that?" Lance gestured roughly towards the living room and the stereo.

"That's the alien music C's been working on. Hasn't he played it for you? I've been--"

Oh shit.

"--telling him it needs to be a little less _Star Trek: The Voyage Home_ and a little more _Close Encounters_ \--"

Oh shit. What was happening?

"--but I kind of like it, you kn-- Whoa! Are you going to throw up? Maybe I should get 'C."

Lance shook his head, and then immediately thought better of it.

"Yeah, could you? Get JC for me."

"Are you sure? I shouldn't leave you if--"

"I'm going to keep sitting right here on the floor. I promise."

Justin scurried away, and Lance rested his head against the wall and tried to breathe deeply. Okay. Deep, calm breaths. He could do this. There was crazy, there were delusions and strange coincidences, and then there was just plain too much.

JC's alien music was much too much.

JC had been to one of their labs. What other possible explanation was there? JC couldn't have dreamed those sounds up, not quite like that, not in that combination. And even if Lance had been singing in his sleep every fucking night, he couldn't have mimicked the sounds of all of their equipment together, the way the labs sounded at times like a giant, living creature.

And if JC had been there, who the hell had taken him? And what had they done to him?

"Lance?" JC said. His voice and his face were full of concern. He was dripping and tying a towel around his waist. "Are you okay, baby? You don't look good."

"I'm okay. I just... got startled. That's all."

"Startled." JC knelt beside him. "I don't think J would have come running just because you'd been startled. Come on, let's get you--"

Lance pulled him into his lap.

"This is good. I just... need a moment."

"I'm wet. I should--"

Lance tightened his hold on JC and wrapped around him the best he could. "We'll dry," he said. He closed his eyes and breathed, scenting JC like he'd done countless times in the last month or so.

 _Mine_ , he thought. And shit, it had been here, right in front of his face the whole time, that possessive feeling, that sense that JC smelled like him. It wasn't because he'd marked JC somehow; it wasn't because JC was his. It was because someone had fucked around with JC's body chemistry. JC was pumping out enough alien hormones that he had unconsciously picked up on it. And why would they mess with his body chemistry like that, unless...

Lance pressed his hand against the bare skin of JC's belly. It hadn't been very long since Look-at-My-Belly! Night, but JC's bump seemed immensely prominent all of a sudden.

"Are you really pregnant?"

"I think so," JC said.

"It's impossible. What have they done to you?"

"I've been telling you all along."

"It's impossible."

"What happened?" JC shifted until he could look him in the face. "Why do you believe me now?"

"He doesn't believe you," Justin said. "He's saying it's impossible."

"No," JC said. "He believes me." He ducked his head and spoke quietly, just to Lance. "You believe me and you're scared but, Lance, I promise, it's okay. I'm okay. They did this, but they didn't do any harm. It'll be okay."

And Lance--oh god, in front of Justin--began to cry.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"No, no," JC said. "Don't be. Baby, it's okay. Don't-- Oh god, here. Let me--"

JC grabbed his towel and tried to wipe away Lance's tears. Justin laughed nervously, probably more from the situation than the sight, and covered his eyes.

"God, put it away, 'C."

And Lance hiccupped as tears kept sliding down his face. It had happened, all of his worst fears and then some. And JC still thought it was okay. He was totally crazy. Crazy and pregnant.

*

Lance knew more about human reproduction than he did about reproduction among his own kind. That might seem odd, given how he was gay and had no hope of ever reproducing with a human mate. But, to get passing grades at school--in Health class and biology--he'd had to learn how all the human parts worked.

That hadn't been the case at home. He and Stacy had known long before their proper sexual education that they had little-to-no chance of reproducing naturally. The mission had not been an early success. Its priority status had plummeted, and most of their scientists had been recalled and reassigned. Once they and their young had left, there were simply too few potential mates left in Lance and Stacy's age cohort. So they hadn't paid much attention when their parents got around to the "bees and the bees and the bees" speech.

Still, Lance knew the basics, and Stacy had dug up several racy mating stories over the years, which she always shared much to his discomfort. Human brothers and sisters didn't talk about that stuff with each other.

It took three to produce young: a pouch mother, a sperm-donating second mother, and an egg--either from a donating queen or, as was most often the case, from the lab's precious supply of cloned eggs. Queens were rare and considered temperamentally unstable, so...

Lance was a queen. And he regularly had unprotected sex with JC, which of course shouldn't mean anything, but maybe now it did. If someone had figured out a way to get around their basic genetic incompatibility... If someone had, for whatever reason, managed to create a viable pouch that wouldn't be rejected immediately by human immune systems... If...

God, he really needed to ask his dad about this. His dad was a doctor; he would have a better understanding of what was--and wasn't--possible.

But in the end, if JC was pregnant, there were only so many explanations. No matter what, someone had performed medical procedures on him without his informed consent. And then... Someone had implanted an embryo in him. Or someone had implanted an egg and then... raped him to fertilize it--even if it had been accomplished without intercourse, even if it had been all sanitized and cold like it was simply another medical procedure, it was still rape. Or several someones, at least one sperm-donor and a queen, had raped him. Or a sperm-donor had raped him and then sent him home to Lance, who had unwittingly finished the job.

Oh god.

Out of the four scenarios, the first and the last were the most likely. The others were a lot of work for an uncertain result. And, following that same line of thinking, the first was much more likely than the last. But... queens were very rare and access to the cloned-egg supply was strictly monitored. And... they all knew that Lance was a queen because there'd been a huge uproar when he reached breeding age and his parents had refused to have him sedated or chemically castrated.

Oh god. The young could seriously be his.


	4. Waiting patient for a love that's mile high

JC didn't mean to belabor the point, but he had to ask again.

"You don't have tentacles?"

"No," Lance said. "I do not have tentacles."

"But you're a shape-shifter, so you could have tentacles if you wanted to."

Lance tapped the horn as a car cut in front of them. "It wouldn't be easy, but I suppose I could have tentacles... if there was a good reason to make the effort."

"But _tentacles_ ," JC said. "Aren't tentacles enough of a reason, in and of themselves?"

"Not really, no."

JC was having the most surreal birthday; it was awesome. He was on his way to the airport with his alien boyfriend--

His alien _boyfriend_! How wild was that?

Whenever he'd imagined the alien lover that he'd always known he was destined to have, either in this life or the next, he'd always pictured her as being a lot like Ilia, the hot, bald chick who was taken over by V'ger's probe in the first _Star Trek_ movie. But now, somehow, instead of his sexy alien mami, he had Lance, who was even better because he knew Lance and Lance had hair, which was really nice, and also-- Hey! Maybe Lance wasn't so different from his dream girl after all.

"Can you explain it again? I'm not quite--"

"JC, we're close to the airport. Can it wait until after?"

"It's just, I think I've got it all backwards in my head. Are you a giant, shape-shifting, _hermaphroditic_ newt? Or a giant, shape-shifting, _androgynous_ newt?"

"You know, I'm not really a newt at all. I said we were kind of like giant newts."

"But are you hermaphroditic or androgynous?"

"From a human point of view, it's really sort of both. At conception, we're one-gendered, but by birth, we're two-gendered although our sexual dimorphism is minimal, making us fairly androgynous. And one gender's reproductive role goes through two distinct phases in a way that could be considered hermaphroditic."

"So you're a hermaphrodite?"

"No, I'm not. Is that too much of a letdown? No tentacles, no glamorous transsexual appeal?"

"No, no. We're totally cool. My hot boyfriend is an alien. And he's talking me home to meet his parents."

"You've met them before."

"But I didn't know they were aliens before! And I wasn't pregnant before... with someone else's child. Oh my god! They'll hate me!"

"They love you. Please don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?" JC said.

"Yes."

"And you're really an alien?"

"Yes."

"Then why are we going to the airport? Why aren't we taking a transporter? You do have transporters, right?"

Lance flicked on the blinker and switched lanes.

"Three things and then we really need to stop talking about it until we're there, okay? One, transporters use a huge amount of energy. We prefer to save our resources and use them only in the case of emergency."

"But whoever took me. They used a transporter, right?"

"Probably. It would have been the easiest way to get you out of my place and back in the shortest amount of time."

"So, it was an emergency. I knew there was something wrong. They had to do this."

"It wasn't. They violated you. There is no justification for that."

"But maybe the young would have died or something. Maybe someone was miscarrying and--"

"That wouldn't make it right. And besides, I've never heard of anything like that."

"Couldn't they transfer the young into me? With a transporter? I know I've seen a show like that or read something..."

"The second reason that we're not teleporting to Mississippi is that-- Okay, I really can't explain this to you. I'll ask for permission to tell you, but I don't know that I'll get it. The transporters, the technology isn't ours. Most of us aren't that comfortable with using them when we don't entirely understand the process. We'd rather use alternative means of transportation."

"But if it was an emergency," JC said. "Wouldn't you take the risk, if it could save your young?"

"I wouldn't take that risk, not at your expense."

"Aww, Lance, that's really--"

"Don't say it's 'sweet.' It's not. It's simply... ethical."

They pulled into a valet parking spot. Lance popped the trunk and they were surrounded by uniformed men opening their doors and going for their luggage.

"What's the third thing?" JC asked.

"What?"

"The third reason we're here instead of... you know."

Lance rolled his eyes.

"It'll wait," JC said, "if you can't tell me."

"Because I'm Lance Bass. People notice when I go from point A to point D. People would start asking questions, if they never saw me at points B and C."

"Oh." JC grabbed his messenger bag from the back seat. "Okay, then. Point B awaits. Shall we?"

After they were through all of the air-travel minutia and settled into their seats in first class, JC buckled his seat belt and whispered, "So, really, no tentacles?"

"Mmm," Lance said. "You know the first thing I want when we get there? A big ol' plate of calamari. Mmm, mmm, mmm."

"Heathen."

"If loving deep-fried squid bits is wrong, I don't want to be right."

They were almost ten minutes into the flight before JC could finally stop giggling.

*

Stacy was waiting at the terminal when they arrived. "Happy birthday," she said, greeting him and hugging Lance.

JC waited patiently until they made it into the car. "Is it okay? Can we talk now? Without the TSA and NSA and whoever listening?"

Lance nodded.

"Man, it's so good to see you, Stacy. Wow. Can I-- Uh. Have you ever shifted into a form with tentacles?"

"Oh lord." Lance groaned theatrically.

"What?" Stacy said. "Oh my god, Lance! Mom and Dad didn't tell me why you were coming. Are you getting married?"

"What?!"

Lance's groan was real this time. "We're not getting married," he told her.

"But the rules--"

"Wait," JC said. "What's going on? No one said anything about--"

"The rule," Lance said, "is that the only human we can tell is our spouse, and that's only after they've been thoroughly vetted by the others."

"Ford knows?"

"Ford knows," Stacy said. "Lance, what are you--?"

A-ha! Ever since "Space Cowboy," JC had known something was up with Ford, something more than simple amusement at his "whacked-out" lyrics. And then there was the way he had smirked after _Schizophrenic_ 's release and asked all of those pointed questions about "She Got Me" and "Come to Me." JC was finally in on the joke.

"It will be okay," Lance was saying. "It's a breach of protocol, but someone else was the first offender, so..."

Stacy started saying something about "the others" and protocol and things that were on a "need-to-know" basis. JC closed his eyes, leaned back, and... whew.

This was exciting, but it was also draining--yesterday and all of its revelations, Lance's sudden insistence that they had to go see his parents _right now_ , the long flight, and something was bothering his stomach, too. He just needed a few minutes of peace somewhere, in something that wasn't moving. But maybe if he just stayed here with his eyes closed and listened to the tones of Lance's voice, he'd be okay.

His stomach kind of jumped and stuttered like it had kept doing on the plane. He rubbed at it as he tried to remember what he'd eaten. There hadn't been anything too strange: toast and peanut butter, some baked peapod crisps, and a nice, crispy lettuce sandwich that Lance had thoughtfully packed for him. Green food was still amazingly good. Mmm. Especially spicy green food.

His stomach twisted and leaped again. It was ridiculous; it shouldn't be upset. He hadn't eaten anything out of the ordinary. But maybe Lance had some Pepto... Oh, wait.

"Stacy?" he asked. "Lance said something about when you were pregnant. The baby moving felt like gas?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah. I guess I did tell him something like that. It's more politically correct, though, to say that it feels like the fluttering of butterfly wings. That's what I say these days."

"Ah," JC said. "Thanks."

Oh, wow, it had to be the young. The young was moving. He hadn't really expected it, not yet. He gently rapped two fingers against his pouch bump, like a tentative knock at a door.

 _Hey. Hello in there._

He smiled and looked up, wanting to share this with Lance and Stacy, and found they were both staring at him. He jerked in his seat.

"Eyes on the road!"

Stacy laughed, but looked away, back to the traffic, and, oh. They were stopped at a red light.

"Are you all right?" Lance asked.

"The young's moving," JC said.

Lance's jaw dropped, and his gaze did, too. He stared at JC's hand on his belly, then back up to meet his eyes, then down again and wow, he looked carsick or like he might faint or something. They'd really had enough of that yesterday.

"What?!" Stacy said, and horns honked and the light was green and they were moving forward again.

JC cracked his window open. A little fresh air always helped when he had motion sickness.

"Maybe the flight riled it up," JC said, "but that doesn't really explain why Tuesday's flight didn't, unless--oh, hey--it must have reached a major developmental milestone this week. Awesome. It's like... This is the fourteenth week, isn't it?"

"What's going on?" Stacy said.

"I'm pregnant," JC said, and then nodded towards Lance's hand, held frozen in the space between them. "You wanna--?"

Lance shook his head, quick, automatic denial even as he bridged the gap and brushed his fingertips against JC's shirtfront.

Stacy was sputtering up in the front. "He's what?! Lance?"

"I shouldn't," Lance told JC.

"Dude." JC grabbed Lance's hand and pressed it firmly against his pouch bump. "I don't know if you'll be able to feel anything, but say hello."

Lance's eyes were always big, but now they were so huge and round that it seemed impossible that no one had ever guessed his secret.

"We don't-- It's-- It might not be mine."

"So? I've never thought it was yours. Does that mean you can't talk to it? To hir?"

"Oh my god," Lance said. "I could hear the 'i' in that. 'Hir.'"

"It's a perfectly acceptable androgynous pronoun."

"Perfectly freaky!" Lance said, but his hands were warm and strong on JC's hip and belly, and JC didn't take offense.

"Oh yeah, like that's fair. A big, intergalatic, shape-shifting newt calling me a freak."

The car lurched to a halt, and more horns blared at them.

"Lance," Stacy said. "Start explaining. Now."

"We're in the middle of the street!"

"Are you going to start explaining?"

"Are you going to pull over?!"

"Guys," JC said. "Please. You're making me miss Heather and Tyler, and there's a McDonald's right over there with a nice, big parking lot. A nice, big _safe_ parking lot."

"Right," Stacy said. "Right, yeah."

She got them moving again.

"Sorry," Lance told him as Stacy pulled into the parking lot.

"No, don't be sorry. Siblings, man, I get it. I know family drama. It can even be sparked by like 'oh my god, you bought the wrong salad dressing!' And in circumstances like these? Yeah, it's fine. But I need a break, I'm going to go in and get some food--" He'd love some hot mustard right now. How long could he drag out going in for some mustard? "--and you can fill Stacy in on the situation and talk about secret alien things without worrying about breaking protocol and shit, okay?"

"Stacy and I can talk later," Lance said. "You don't have to--"

"No, I really do. I'm hungry and I need to pee, and--" JC opened his car door.

"'C--"

"I'll be back. Talk to each other."

He shut the car door with a good solid thunk.

*

Lance turned sideways in the seat so he could watch JC make his way across the parking lot. Stacy had to be watching him, too, because as soon as the glass doors of the McDonald's closed behind him, she asked, "Is he really pregnant?"

Lance sighed. He didn't want to discuss it. There were times for talking and there were times for doing. And there were times for waiting, too.

He had made a real mistake with this trip. It was important, but he should have waited a few days and given JC time to adjust to the news. They could have at least waited until after the first _Dance Crew_ taping.

But Lance had been too busy thinking about his dad's medical scanners and too focused on how there was no one--beyond his family and the guys--who they could trust. He had been so caught up in his own fears that he had rushed them through this. He had rushed JC out of the house and onto the plane, and it was obviously too much on top of everything else. It was too much for both of them.

Several times during the flight, JC had seemed like he was teetering at the edge of mania. And he, himself, wasn't doing much better. He was a mess, a big, churning mess. JC had smiled and put Lance's hands on his belly and Lance hadn't known whether to burst into tears or throw up at the thought of the young moving inside of him. How could it be moving? And how could Lance not know if that made him happy or horrified?

What he wanted to do right now was to follow JC inside and make sure that he was really okay. And then he wanted to hole up with him somewhere for about a week. They wouldn't talk; they wouldn't deal with other people. They'd just hold each other and touch a lot and maybe after a week or so of that, Lance could just wake up with everything settled in his mind.

And while he was dreaming big, well... Lance would also be fine with waking up right now and realizing that this had all been a dream. Yeah.

"We don't know for sure that he's pregnant," he told Stacy. "That's one of the things we came here to find out. But..."

"But now you're hoping he has a really bad case of gas?"

Lance laughed.

"Ah man, Stace. You're gross, you know that? You're almost as bad as Joey. But thanks for making me laugh."

"You looked like you needed it."

"Oh, I do."

"What did you mean when you said it might not be yours? And he said--"

"Stacy. What did it sound like we meant?"

"But... How is that--"

JC stepped out of the restaurant, carrying a couple of bags and one of those cardboard drink carriers with three medium soft drinks.

"--even possible?" Stacy said.

"That's the other thing we're here to find out."

Lance leaned over to open the door for JC, but JC came 'round to the wrong side of the car, to Lance's door. Lance opened it.

"'C?"

 

JC handed him one of the bags.

"I got you guys some grilled chicken meals. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's--"

JC handed him the drink carrier, too, and once Lance had hold of it, he pulled out the cup that obviously had orange soda in it.

"That's mine," JC said. "There's Diet Cokes for you guys. I'm going to go sit on that bench over near the Playland."

"JC, come on. Get in the car."

"Nope. It's nice out. You just keep talking."

JC shut the car door again and walked away.

"Do you remember," Stacy said, "back when I thought he was a big pushover?"

"You sure didn't know him very well."

"Mmmhmm." Stacy reached back and thwapped his knee. "Gimme my sandwich."

Lance doled out the food and told her a little bit about what was happening, all the while watching JC. He didn't have the best vantage point, but it looked like JC had bought only fries for himself. He was sitting there, with his back to the playground and the sun in his eyes, squinting like mad and dipping his fries, one after another, into a little white tub. It looked like one of the sauce packets that came with chicken nuggets.

"Is that barbecue sauce?" Stacy said.

"Maybe."

Lance wanted to go over there and give him his sunglasses.

"No," Stacy said, as JC pulled another little tub from his bag. "I think it's mustard."

Fries and mustard?

He should be taking better care of JC.

And it was his birthday, too. What a lousy way to treat someone on their birthday. Making him feel like it was better to sit alone with the sun in his eyes, eating fries and mustard, instead of being with his friends.

JC had decided to skip the big party this year because his crowd would accept a vague "Sorry, I was unexpectedly unavailable" much more readily than any sort of explanation for why he wasn't drinking and smoking up with them. But that was no excuse for Lance's absolute failure to do anything special to mark the occasion.

It was a long drive to his parents', but when they finally got there, Lance would put everything else on hold and focus on JC for a while. At the very least, he could help him relax and wind down from all this. Yeah. That would be good. Even just a little time alone together would help, and he could turn down the lights and lay JC out on a bed and treat him right.

But first he had to convince him to get back in the car.

*

McDonald's charged extra for sauce packets now, which was really sort of ridiculous. Like if you wanted one more sauce than the allotment you got with your nugget purchase, they were going to hit you with a fifteen cent charge. And if you wanted nugget sauce without actually buying any nuggets, geez. They practically took your thumb print and asked for two forms of ID.

And what was Lance doing? Did he think JC was blind just because he was sitting out here? He was supposed to be talking to Stacy about top-secret alien things, not standing there looking both ways like he was planning to cross the street.

"You're supposed to be talking!"

Lance turned towards him and cupped his ear like he couldn't quite hear, but JC knew that smile. He could hear just fine.

"Don't give me that! You better be talking to her psychically!"

Lance tapped at his temple, then winked, turned and dashed across the street. The big maniac. JC smiled and then licked a glop of mustard off his thumb.

"Hey," Stacy said.

JC jumped.

"Whoa! Jesus, don't do that."

"Sorry," Stacy said. She held out a pair of sunglasses. "Here, he wanted you to have these."

"What's he doing?"

"Don't know. He just said he had a top-secret boyfriend mission and asked me to see if I could get you to come back to the car."

JC put the sunglasses on. "I'm not upset or anything. It's nice out here."

"Yeah, it is." Stacy sat down on the bench beside him.

"Do you want some of my fries?"

"No, thanks."

JC shrugged and ate in silence for a bit. Oh no, this wasn't awkward. Not at all. Nice alien girl right beside him, and he couldn't even hit on her, because she was _Stacy_.

"So, you know what I'm dying to know?"

"Uh." JC looked around. There wasn't anyone in earshot, except for a couple of teenagers in the playground's ball pit who probably weren't supposed to be there. "How I got, um... in the family way?"

"No." She leaned towards him conspiratorially. "I want to know what is up with you and the tentacles."

JC laughed. "Oh man. I can't tell you that!"

"Why? Is it dirty? Come on, tell me. Tell me before he gets back, he never lets me in on the dirty stuff."

JC crumpled the carry-out bag around the last few fries.

"It's not that dirty."

"You're evading the question, it must be. You know, I only look like a girl. I'm as much of a guy as he is. Or he's as much of a girl as I am. We should be able to talk about these things. Please?"

"Man. Everything he's ever said about you was true, wasn't it? I'm glad I don't have an evil, perverted big sister."

"Oh please, you'd love it." She poked his arm. "Tell me!"

"Nope."

"Aww, come on!" She poked him again.

"Stacy," Lance said. "When I asked you to get him back in the car, I didn't mean 'please poke him repeatedly until he does.'"

JC smiled up at him.

"Hey. Was your top-secret mission successful?"

Lance held up a small paper bag.

"More or less. Do you have any mustard left?"

"Um, yeah. Kind of."

JC smoothed out the McDonald's bag enough to pull the last, unopened tub of mustard out of it.

"Great." Lance said, and pulled a lighter and a little box of birthday candles out of his bag. "I was really hoping the mini mart would have some cupcakes or green ice cream for you, but this'll do the trick nicely."

He tried to push a candle through the foil top of the sauce tub.

"Or maybe it won't do the trick..."

"Amateur," Stacy said. She took it, and jabbed one of her keys through the top before handing it back.

Lance stuck the candle in and lit it.

"Happy birthday."

"Make a wish," Stacy said.

JC clapped his hands and blew out the candle. And then, because he wanted to kiss Lance and he couldn't, not in plain sight, he grabbed Lance's hand and said, "Pull me up!"

Lance did and--just like JC had hoped he would--held his hand tight for a moment longer than he should, before letting go. Maybe Lance wasn't just an alien; maybe he was a psychic alien. That would be so cool and it would explain so much.

"Okay, my alien friends," JC said. "Let's go to the car and I'll explain to you one of our most ancient and revered human customs that you really should have mastered before you went undercover among us." He draped his arms over their shoulders and herded them along. "It's something we call 'birthday cake' and it's not actually anything like mustard, so..."

*

Once they were back in the car, JC snuggled up next to him. Lance gave a quiet prayer of thanks for tinted windows and boyfriends who let themselves be charmed by foolish gestures. He could just imagine how Jesse or Reichen would have responded to that and it wouldn't have been pretty. He was lucky. He needed to remember that. Even with all this crap being flung their way, he was a very lucky man.

"I'm really tired," JC said. "Would you mind like just talking to me?"

"About what?"

"Not about anything. Just talking. I like the sound of your voice, you know. Or you could talk to the young. You didn't get to do that earlier. You could talk to hir and say 'hi.' And can you also say it in your native tongue? 'Cause while it's in my belly, it's not going to hear a whole lot of that, right? And that's important. If it's moving, it must be aware at some level now, and if it's going to develop to its full potential, it needs to hear and know the sound of its own kind. Hir own kind. No matter who hir real parents are."

"You are its real parent," Lance said.

"Oh, no," JC said. "That's like all nice of you to say, but I'm really just an incubator--"

"But--!" Stacy said.

"--and I've told you, I'm okay with that. You're not hurting my feelings any."

"I'm sorry," Stacy said. "I probably shouldn't butt in, JC, not when you're trying to cuddle my baby brother--"

"Just keep your eyes on the road," Lance said. "There is no cuddling going on back here. No cuddling at all."

"Man, your sister. When you were gone, you should have heard her. She was interrogating me."

Stacy laughed.

"You've got a tentacle kink or something, of course I'm going to ask you about it."

They argued a bit about whether tentacle porn-- "I told you, it's not like that! It's not porn." --was an appropriate topic for mixed company and, if not, which one of them was the odd one out: Stacy for being the only "girl" or JC for being the only human or Lance for being the only non pouch-bearer.

Then Stacy tried to explain why being a pouch mother was so much more than being an incubator. She didn't get very far before JC fell asleep, and Lance was glad for that. He had heard her expound upon the topic before. Oh, the special bond that existed only between a pouch mother and her borne young! Even though Lance knew the bond was special, he also thought Stacy was a little too invested in outdated idealizations of motherhood.

Besides, JC really didn't need to know about that yet.

In the early hours that morning when he was calling his parents and checking airline schedules, Lance had thought that perhaps... Well, perhaps it would be best if they could terminate the pregnancy. It had made his gut curl to think it--and it was maybe too late now, if the young had quickened--but then the rest of this situation tied his guts into knots as well. If they couldn't terminate it or if JC refused to do so, then Lance didn't want him to know about the bond.

This was so very nearly a no-win situation. JC seemed absolutely, one-hundred-percent committed to the young, but only as far as bearing it went. He very clearly did not want to be a parent. Lance wanted to be a father; he wanted it so badly. But, oh god, not this child. He didn't think that he could care for this youngling, not even if it was his. At the same time, he would do everything in his power to keep the young out of the hands of whoever had done this. They would not be reaping the rewards of their actions.

They would have to give the young to someone else, though he foresaw many difficulties in selecting a family for it. And if JC learned about the bond, particularly if he learned that young could not shape-shift on their own, that a pouch-mother was the only person who could stimulate and control their young's shift-response until it gained some rudimentary control of shifting around age six... If he realized how dangerous it could be--for the young and for all of them--to have a youngling running around in its natural form, well... Hell. He might not let Lance do what needed to be done. He might feel obligated to raise it. Lance would not let JC be trapped like that. He'd do the same for any friend.

More importantly, Lance _couldn't_ let JC be trapped like that. He wanted JC; he wanted him for as long as he could have him. And how long would it be before their relationship crumbled under those conditions?

When they got to the house, Lance carefully extricated himself from the backseat and asked Stacy to wait in the car with JC. "I don't want him to be alone if he wakes up while I'm gone."

His mother frowned when he explained the situation, that they were drained from the long day and needed an evening alone to recuperate. His dad clapped him on his back, though, and said, "What are you going here then? Go on and take care of him."

"And take care of yourself, too," Diane said.

He brought their bags up to his room, and then stood for a minute considering it. Something wasn't quite right. Hmm. If he was making a nice, safe hidey-hole for him and JC, then he needed to think a bit more like JC. What would--? Oh. JC wouldn't just _look_ at the room, and the silence didn't sound right. He opened the windows and pulled the shades down low, and then he switched on one of the ceiling fans and went down to get JC.

Steering a marginally-awake JC was a fine art, but it was one they'd all mastered long ago. JC was soon settled back asleep. Lance removed his shoes for him, then stripped down himself and crawled in beside him. He didn't plan to sleep for long, but he would just close his eyes for a moment.

*

A sound threaded itself through JC's dreams. It tumbled around him, filling his senses one by one with song and thrumming vibration and soft, warm skin smelling of musk and nutmeg. _Lance_ , he thought, and he knew he was safe.

 _Lance_ , he thought and opened his eyes. He was in Lance's arms, the room was cool and dim, and Lance was singing.

"When I was working on my alien music," he said quietly, not wanting to drown out Lance's song. "I kept thinking that if I got it right, I would know because it would sound like being in the belly of a whale if whales could purr. Your language is very beautiful."

Lance stopped singing and cleared his throat.

"Thank you. But it's not-- That wasn't quite our language."

"No? What was it?"

"Human throats can't shape our language, and our lips and tongues can't shape human speech. So it's just... a compromise between the two."

"It's still beautiful. I'd like to hear more. It seems like... Don't take this the wrong way, but it sounded like something very wild and natural, kind of like what I'd expect from a pre-literate, oral-tradition culture. The meaning is in the tone and... in the frequency of that purring vibration?"

Lance laughed, just a little huff of amusement.

"You will never cease to amaze me, 'C. How in the world do you know that?"

"That's just what it sounded like. What were you singing? Was it singing? It would be hard to tell normal speech from singing, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, well. It wasn't really anything. It was... a gibberish song."

"Oh no, it wasn't. You're blushing, aren't you?" JC rolled so he could pat at the bedside table. "Where's a lamp? I want to see you, man. See you blush as you lie to me."

"Maybe I unplugged the lamps and hid them all as part of a nefarious scheme."

"Yeah, right. You better hope there's a lamp or I will be forced to tickle the truth out of you."

"Oh lord, no," Lance said, his voice bland and perfectly even. "Please not that."

JC chuckled and poked him.

"Tell me what you were singing." He poked him again. "I want to know."

"You'll never torture it out of me."

"Please?"

"Well... I might be willing to consider a trade."

"You want to take it out in trade? I could be up for that." JC wiggled his hips and then slipped his hand down between the two of them. "Hmm, I think you could be up for that, too."

"A trade of information. You give up a secret and then I will."

"Any secret?"

"Hmm, no. I think I want to learn the deep, dark truth behind your tentacle fetish."

"Oh man, it's not a fetish."

Lance snorted. "Oh no, of course not. We've had about eight tentacle conversations today only because that's such a good, round, octopussy number. Silly me, mistaking simple numerology for a fetish."

Lance was so cute; JC loved it when he talked nerdy to him.

"You know what? I'm going to tell you, but only because you've exploited my weakness for hot geeky aliens."

"You are so full of it."

"Yeah, I know."

As nice as his position half-sprawled over Lance was, it wasn't the best for storytelling. He shifted to the side and sat up.

"Okay, so you know _Galaxy Quest_ , right?"

"'Never surrender, never give up,'" Lance intoned in a voice that put Tim Allen's to shame. "Of course I know-- Oh. Is this going to be all about how you have the hots for Laliari?"

"No. It's not about her, not really. It's about-- Well. Tentacle porn always left me cold, right? It's so 'Hey, I'm a sentient plant and I'm here to sex you up, but I'm going to do it all inadvertent-like 'cause I don't really care if you're here or not.' Or like 'Yup, here I am, big scary octopus creature, don't mind me, seeking orifices is just my day job.'"

Lance laughed. "Sounds like you've seen an awful lot of tentacle porn for someone who doesn't like it."

"I shared a bus with Chris."

"Ah, enough said."

"So yeah, it left me cold. But then I saw _Galaxy Quest_ and it's such a great movie in so many ways, you know? Love, action, humor, and a really interesting commentary on the real-life significance of pop-culture. I mean, yeah. Think about it. We're pop-culture, too, and we're out there traveling the airwaves right now, reaching unknown--"

"Tentacles, JC. Focus on the tentacles."

"Okay, okay. So like Fred, right? Tony Shaloub's character, he's great. He seems so out of it, but he's got hidden depths 'cause yeah maybe he's just a stoner or something, but I think there's more to it than that. I think it's more that he accepts things at a really basic, fundamental level. He's almost like the Thermians, which makes sense since he hooks up with one, but he's not dangerously naive like they are. He isn't blind to deceit. It's just like... um..."

"He's a lot like you," Lance said.

"No, not-- That's not why I like him."

"He doesn't see what seems plainly obvious to other people, but he sees things that they don't see."

"Yeah, kind of. Yeah. And he falls for Laliari and we think, 'Well, she's the only Thermian who's even vaguely hot, of course he falls for her.' But then, that scene when they kiss, wow, suddenly her tentacles appear out of nowhere and it's hot. It's so hot, because he's so into her. She's all grabbing him with surprise tentacles, he should be freaking the hell out. But it doesn't even phase him. It's like he's been seeing her inner self all along, he knows who she truly is, and that's something beyond her physical shell. Humanoid, octopoid, it doesn't really matter."

"Oh," Lance said.

"And I don't know... I've just always thought that scene was really hot--and romantic, too--and it made me look at tentacles differently and when you said you were a shape-shifting alien, well, of course I thought of Fred and Laliari and I wanted you to know that tentacles are okay. They're a symbol of your alienhood, Lance, but I like all of--"

"I seriously don't have tentacles, though."

"But it would be okay if you did. I'd like to see you... I want you to be able to relax around me. I just-- You can show me."

"Well. Um, funny you should mention that."

"Oh my god, did you shift? Where's the light? I want to see!"

JC scrambled for the other side of the bed; there seriously had to be a lamp around here somewhere.

"I didn't shape-shift, and I'm not going to. It's really a lot of work."

Aww. That wasn't fair!

But, yeah okay, it wasn't right for him to be disappointed. He didn't have to see Lance's true form, not if Lance didn't want him to.

His hand finally hit something distinctly lamp-like. He clicked it on, blinked through the pain of sudden light after darkness, and then stared.

Oh god. Look at him.

Lance had stripped down to his boxers and all of the familiar planes and curves of his body were on display like never before. His skin was alive with color, greens and blues subtly ebbing and flowing with each breath. He had changed the color of his skin last night as a small demonstration of his shifting ability, but he hadn't shown so much of it.

JC reached out to touch him, and Lance drew a loud breath like he was scared or nervous, and JC looked into his eyes.

"Don't be-- Please, Lance. You're so beautiful. How could I ever think otherwise? You could shift into your true form and I'd still think it."

"I'm not going to do that."

"You can, though. I want you to be comfortable with me."

"I am, and I'm much, much more comfortable in this shape. And in my everyday skin."

JC just knew that Lance would be the most amazing-looking giant newt in the galaxy. He'd love to see him like that, but if he wasn't comfortable...

"You can change back if you want."

"Not yet," Lance said. "It takes time and a lot of energy and, well, this has been kind of a lousy birthday for you and I--"

"Lousy? Are you kidding? This has been the most awesome birthday ever. Dreams coming true, man, like you wouldn't believe. Aliens are real and they're already our friends and they're hot and--"

"Oh, well, if it wasn't lousy, then you won't need hot alien birthday sex to make up for every--"

JC threw himself at him and sniffled dramatically.

"Oh my god! Today was so awful!" He sniffled again, and then looked up hopefully and batted his lashes. "I have never needed hot alien sex more in my entire life."

Lance laughed, and JC watched entranced as the colors in his skin swirled and grew more vibrant.

"Are you--? Is your skin like a mood ring?"

"More or less."

"Does it um... do that during sex?"

A wave of blue rushed into Lance's cheeks and out across his ears.

"I've, uh, never had sex in this skin, but uh... natural procreation requires group sex and the queen's color display during mating purportedly acts as an aphrodisiac to encourage continued and additional mating amongst the rest of its pod."

Oh fuck.

Psychedelic color-enhanced alien orgies were way better than a few tentacles. He had to grab himself and give his dick a good hard jerk, before he could even speak.

"Oh my god--" He jerked himself again, and then yanked at Lance's boxers. "--this is best fucking birthday ever!"

Lance laughed yellow, blue, and green.

"Yeah," JC said. "Make me see colors." He licked his hand, getting it all slick and sloppy before wrapping it around Lance's dick. "How fast can you get yourself in me?"

Oh yeah. Accepting gifts graciously was totally JC's number-one guiding principle.


End file.
